


My Estrangement

by Mylifeisaverage



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-27
Updated: 2015-10-03
Packaged: 2018-02-27 04:17:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 92,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2678786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mylifeisaverage/pseuds/Mylifeisaverage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ciel Phantomhive has lost his parents. With the sudden, unexplained death of his family, hostility grows within him until it pushes him to snap and commit a crime so unforgivable and unforgettable. Dubbed 'Schizophrenic', he's placed within one of England's many illegal, malicious madhouses where he meets a certain charismatic, yet soft-smiled psychologist that will make him Feel again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hey, hey, hey guys! so, this is a more modernized version of the kuro universe. not so much present day, but along those lines. this first prologue is just to see of you like the idea. if you like it please tell me and i'll post more!!!!!!!!!
> 
> with secret sincerity, 
> 
> mylifeisaverage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (250616) two years later, well look who it is? it's me, and im editing this steamy pile of horseshit so its not so fucking terrible. none of the plot changes, im just fixing the writing and continuity. i'll add **done** and the date to all the chapters that have been edited. thanks for dealing with this terribleness.

I awoke to the scent of melting wax and burning hair. I grudgingly pulled myself up and out of the bliss of sleep and rubbed my eyes, thinking the cat might’ve burned himself on a candle. Weary and unfocused, I lost my balance and teetered slightly in bed. I caught myself with a hand bracing the headboard, and soon enough, I had my wits gathered enough to stand and investigate that smell.

Through the hollow darkness of my bedroom, I looked around for the cat, hoping to quickly discover his whereabouts, assess the damage, and get back to bed. Of course, I didn’t see him in my immediate vicinity, and thus, braced myself for a chilly venture out into the corridor. Wandering through the darkness, I studied the portraits and still-lifes adorning the walls in passing and I followed the smell as it grew in heat and intensity. Anxiety built slowly in my chest; judging by the strength of the smell, it seemed like he was stuck in the fireplace and someone had gotten cold in the night. In the distance, I could see a spot of orange at the end of the hallway in the direction of the parlor. I quickened my pace. 

The light burned brighter and brighter, and my eyes narrowed in confusion. It seemed to originate from some place much closer than the parlor, as that room sat at the end of the hall. The light oozed out from the cracks and crannies of a room in the center towards my left. Now the heat was much worse, I’d gone from arms wrapped around my chest to sweating as I approached the exact door from which the light, the heat, and the smell emanated. It was the door to my parents’ bedroom. 

I slowed to a stop, fearing the worst when I saw thin tendrils of smoke creeping out from under the door. As if in a dream, I brought my hand up to the door, disbelieving my tired eyes. When it was hot to the touch, I was snapped out of reverie. I was wide awake, and the house was on fire. 

Panicking, I reached for the doorknob, anxious to get the door open, but it singed my hands and I snapped them back to my sides.

“Mummy!” I wailed, as the walls around the door grew thinner and thinner. I could see them rapidly going transparant before their imminent collapse. I could hear the air whipping about, the smell of burning hair pouring from every inch of their bedroom. I heard a dull thud from within and all the color drained from my face.

“Mum! Dad!” I screamed, tears burning red paths down my cheeks. I nearly jumped out of my skin at the sound of shuffling and coughing from the other side of the door. I stared, helpless and beginning to hyperventilate as the crack between the door and the floorboards suddenly went dark. 

“Ciel…” my father’s voice coughed my name. I dropped to my knees. “Ciel, listen to me. There’s someone in the house. They want to hurt you, Ciel. You must escape.” I could hear him struggle for breath, groaning as the flames licked at his skin and hair. There was no sign of my mother. 

“Daddy, what’s happening?!” I cried, pushing my hand under the door, hoping to find him. Rough, torn, burnt flesh wrapped itself around my hand, and I knew this would be the end of my parents. 

“I’m so sorry,” he apologized. I could practically see the tears in his eyes, a proud man who never showed weakness had finally hit a breaking point. “I never wanted to leave you like this.”

The walls of the corridor were set ablaze. Great walls of flame slowly consumed all the paintings I’d looked upon every day of my life. When the hinges had had enough, the door suddenly fell into my parents’ bedroom. Crushed underneath its weight was my father, being burned alive before my eyes. I couldn’t look away from what was left of his face.

“We love you…” he openly sobbed, witnessing my heart breaking before took his final breaths. “Now go!” he ordered, letting go of my hand. 

It was all of me to leave him. But I stood and ran as fast as my legs could carry me. By the time I’d made it to the lobby, the entire house was stripped down to its framework. I could hear the rapid approach of dozens of footsteps. I spun around, desperate for a way out, but several large men filed into the room. Just before they could grab me, a chandelier right over my head fell from the ceiling. I looked up, and seconds later, it struck me, shards of glass protruding from my right eye. I lost consciousness. 

Stuck in limbo, I barely registered hands lifting me and carrying me away, abducting me from the site of my family’s death. 

_This is where I die,_ I thought, _This is how it ends._

But it didn’t end. I was just ten years old, with so much more hell to pay.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **done** 300616

“It’s been three years.”

One of my many therapists writing down every word I say as well as _how_ I said it and all esoteric meaning behind it. He’d asked me how long it’s been since my parents died, since the chandelier had burned my right eye out of it’s socket. 

It had been three years since the death of my parents. I’d grown quite a bit, yet remained small and slight and pale. Some said I looked more and more like my father with each passing year. Some said that they could see my mother smiling at them in my remaining eye. I wore a patch over the gaping socket left behind by the chandelier. I never went without it. If it was ever even so much as mistied, I could feel my skin crawl. It had to rest so not even the smallest breeze could enter. 

I had been missing for a month after the fire, and that month was a vague blur for us all. All that law enforcement could prove was that I was kidnapped by a secret satanic society, nameless and invisible to the outside world. They branded me with their seal on my left side. They kept me drugged and trapped in a small cage when they weren’t torturing me in some way. But no one, not even I, could really know what exactly happened, though we all shared the same conjecture. 

Ever since, I’ve been in required therapy and living under the roof of my mother’s sister; Aunt Angelina. And I hated her with every fiber of my being. She was a jealous, tyrannical woman, who blamed me for the fire and the loss of her sister. Though my estate would be granted to me by the time of my eighteenth birthday, hers was evaporated by the fire, and she resented me for it. 

“How have you adjusted?” my newest therapist, an overtly cheerful man, asked brightly, as though I could’ve gotten over this tragedy by now. I rolled my eye. 

“I’m thirteen years old,” I began, looking in his direction but not really seeing him, “I’ve lost my family, my home, even my eye. I’m forced to live with that vile, secretive creature.” My hands tightened into fists as I closed the one eye that I still have. “So you tell me…” I leaned in closer, making sure he understood the fullest extent my words. “Do I _look_ well adjusted?”

Now looking very concerned, if not a little disturbed, my therapist tried to respond as optimistically as he could. “I-I…” he gaped, unaccustomed to the immense hostility that followed me around like a shadow, “Maybe you just need… more time?” There was a stretch of unimpressed silence. I raised a brow and narrowed my eyes. My therapist swallowed. “Perhaps occupying your mind somehow, maybe a hobby or--”

“This session has concluded,” I snapped, making him gasp at the sudden shock of my voice. Before he could come back to his senses, I was already halfway out of my chair, determined to get as far away from someone so naive and incompetent as possible. 

“But-- Wait!” 

I took up my jacket, gave one last look at my shell shocked therapist I’d likely not be seeing again, and left the office. 

It was a cold, rainy evening. As I stepped out onto the pavement, the rain came down in sheets above me. The house wasn’t too far, but far enough to know my face would be red and my ears would be numb by the time I reached my aunt’s house. It would be tedious and aggravating, I’d arrive at the house exponentially grumpier than I was now, but I bit my tongue and set off down the street, reminding myself that there were worse things in life than cold nights and rain. 

By the time I reached the front porch of the house, it was dark outside. As I expected, My face and hands lacked any sort of feeling, making it difficult to actually open the door. Angelina must’ve heard the struggle at the door. I’d finally gotten my key into the lock when the door swung open and her sharp gaze burned the top of my head.

“You’re early,” she observed, surprised to see me an hour before I was expected. I pushed past her without so much as a passing glance and headed for my room. I could feel her eyes following me out of the room, perhaps with that fake concern she so often wore as a mask. How I hated that fake concern.

“I’ll be in the bath, Ciel…” She announced flatly, tensing at the bang of a slammed door.

Pressing my back against my door, I let out an exasperated sigh, ruminating on the pain that ran through me at the very idea of trying to communicate with all these foolish people. The room Angelina stuck me in could rival Harry Potter’s in amount of child neglect. It was small and dark, hardly a place for even the worst of enemies. In the right corner of the room, a small, neat bed waited for me to settle in for another sleepless night. With nothing else to do but sulk and stew in my own lamentations, I kicked off my shoes and crawled into bed.

My first attempt at sleep seemed futile now but I’d had a particularly long, particularly bad day. Hopefully some sleep would come and save me from enduring it further. But every night it was the same dream. Within minutes, visions of fire flashed behind my eyes. I saw my father’s disfigurement, smelled the burning hair and melting walls, heard the smothered breaths he took. I’ve always had this terror. Since that night, the same dream haunted me, never allowing me to forget. But just before I jolted back to wakefulness, I heard a voice from behind me, a voice different from my father’s. 

“Poor, poor little boy.” The voice said, seemingly from behind me. My metaphysical-self whipped around, peering down the flaming hallways and seeing no one there. In reality, I stirred in my state of fitful, frightened sleep.

“Who’s there!” I called, but my voice couldn’t carry over the fires that absorbed all sound. I couldn’t hear myself think, but the voice rang clear and true. 

“Oh, but it’s me,” the voice whispered, “your reaper.”

“My what..?” I questioned the hot, thick air. Suddenly, a body curled around mine in an odd embrace, appearing out of thin air in a plume of red smoke. There stood a bespectacled man with long red hair and a curious smile. He waved to me, winking as he did so.

“Grell Sutcliffe, at your service,” He said, taking my hand and placing a small, introductory kiss to my knuckles. I stood completely still, shocked and speechless. “I’m supposed to take your soul, since this is the end of your life,” he explained. I opened my mouth to protest, but he smiled widely, bringing his index finger to rest over his lips, silencing me as he continued. “But I fancy your darkness and your constant melancholy state. It could make for very interesting happenings in your future. So now, I guess, I’m like your conscience.”

“My what..?” I ask, a ten year old boy’s understanding didn’t have room for concepts like this. I couldn’t find the room to question his presence alone, never mind what on Earth he was saying. But it didn’t matter, this man, Grell, had anticipated my confusion. With a wide grin bearing two rows of sharp teeth, he gave me a proposition. 

“Would you like to live, Ciel?”

“H-How did you know my—“

“Well?” he pressed.

“Yes, sir, yes, I want to live.”

“Then open your eyes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> follow my tumblr? contusionclub.tumblr.com


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **done** 160816

I sat bolt upright, panting and covered in a thin layer of sweat. Regaining some semblance of calm, I ran a hand through my hair and scanned the darkness. At a glance, I guessed that it was the wee hours of the morning. The house was still and hollow, mimicking the streets outside in lifelessness and desertion. I’d been in my terror since five in the evening. I cursed silently, jolting as a rough shudder passed through me. Smacking a hand down over my right eye, I pressed the silken patch into my skin, still there. I breathed a sigh of relief. 

“You know what’s fun, Ciel?” I barely held in a startled yelp, spooked by a distantly familiar voice that sounded so close to me, yet I couldn’t find its source. I thought for a moment that I was still trapped within the pulls of my dream, rubbing my functional eye to wake it up, but the itch of eyes looking down at me never subsided. That voice, it was the same flamboyant drawl from my dream, but it was so far away now that I remembered less and less of it as the seconds ticked by. 

“Am I still dreaming?” I dared to ask aloud. I reached for the lamp on my nightstand and turned it on. The light threw my shadow across the room; I was alone.

“Not this time,” the voice replied, breathing right down my neck. It was like it was right next to me, yet there was no one in sight. 

“Who’s there? Show yourself!”

The voice purred. “I’m your conscience now, remember?” I made a questioning sound in the back of my throat, “You accepted my proposal. I let you live, you let me have fun,” It explained. “Grell Sutcliffe at your service,” it introduced itself, then added, “or are _you_ at mine?” as a dark afterthought. 

“Grell…?”

“To be perfectly honest, I’m a little disappointed that you’ve forgotten my name already!” the voice whined, pouting right into my ear, “I thought we were closer than that. How rude.” 

“I’m sorry…” 

I had a feeling I was in over my head. I tried to convince myself I was still dreaming, but it felt too real to be a dream or a hallucination. I shook my head, hopefully to rid it of this sleepy confusion, and laid back down to get back to sleep. I sighed and closed my eyes when he spoke again, “Let’s talk about revenge.”

“This isn’t happening,” I reasoned quietly to myself, “just go to sleep.” I tried to stay calm and, for the most part, I succeeded at putting up a convincing front, protecting myself from my invisible “conscience”.

“The world has wronged you, hasn't it, Ciel?” Grell went on. I could hear the smile in his voice.

“...Yes,” I admitted, “and it won’t stop.” I thought of my parents, the last I’d seen their happy faces. Grell, wherever he was, must’ve felt my demeanor change.

“I’m truly sorry for your loss,” he condoled, “you really didn’t deserve that, but sometimes that’s the hand we’re dealt.” My front slipped slightly, sorrow seeming to make the room even darker, and suddenly this bed felt much colder and lonelier. There’s a warmth one loses with the loss of loved ones. It is irreplaceable, and the vacancy is thoroughly experienced every passing second with no hope of ever being filled. I gathered myself and spoke again.

“You we’re speaking of revenge, Grell.” I said sharply, choosing anger over sadness. I could feel the smile return to his face.

“Well, how about it? Someone on this bloody rock we call Earth must deserve the wrath of Ciel Phantomhive?” I gave a small huff of laughter, giving some thought to the hypothetical. “Maybe the therapist?” Grell suggested.

“An obnoxious neurotypical.”

“The school teacher?”

“A bible-black tyrant.”

“Maybe…” Grell drew his words out in long purring puffs of laughter, “Angelina?”

Oh, a world without Aunt Angelina would be a world a little brighter. The resentment she harbored for me would evaporate and clear the skies. The contempt she felt would sink into the soil and give life to the flowers. People would fill the streets and sing her goodbye and smile as they knew they would never suffer another moment with her ever again. 

“I’m listening.”

“Ugh,” the reaper scoffed, reacting to my tease the way I’d expected him to, “That woman has got to go. She’s stealing my style and there can be only one.” 

“That’s right, you do share certain similarities,” I mused, recalling a flash of red and the glow of green eyes from my dream. “And how should we do it?” I asked, enjoying this new game a little too much. A cold breeze sent a shiver down my spine as Grell’s voice drew nearer.

“My death scythe is under the bed, Dear.” he said slowly, all serious with no joke in his tone. Now curious, and a bit anxious, but mostly darkly excited, I climbed out of bed. My more logical side knew there wouldn’t be anything there, but I reached under anyway. When my hand brushed against something hard and cold, I gasped. Slowly, I pulled a large, ornately decorated chainsaw out from under the bed.

“It’s a chainsaw?” I wondered out loud, oddly not phased at all, “I thought death scythes were, well, scythes.” Grell giggled. 

“Oh, Ciel, scythes are so last season!” he exclaimed. I nodded to humor him, but inwardly wasn’t so sure, perhaps I was a tad disappointed. “Now,” he continued, very serious once more, “time is up, for Angelina Dalles-Burnett. You must be the one to end her life, Ciel.”

I froze, his words sending me into a bloody, violent war with myself. Part of me advised to go back to bed and forget this ever happened. Part of me thought I was still dreaming. But the biggest part, only winning by the smallest fiber of self, wanted to do this. I wanted so badly for someone to feel the pain I felt every day. I wanted Aunt Angelina, to suffer as she makes me suffer every moment I’m with her, every moment she looks at me like I’m the one that set the fire that killed her sister. Then I felt very calm, the type of calm one feels when they just awake from a long satisfying night’s sleep. I knew what I had to do. 

“Let’s go.”

I heard a malicious chuckle from in front of me, growing more and more distant, guiding me to where she was. I followed the voice out of my room, chainsaw-death scythe in hand. I stepped soundlessly through the hall to her bedroom where she slept completely unaware of what was to become of her. Grell whispered his encouragements as I crept closer to her. She slept with her back to me. She looked peaceful, more peaceful than I’ll ever be. So peaceful, she robbed me of my own sense of calm; I quickly became furious.

“Angelina,” I said to myself, “You have tormented me for the last time.” Suddenly the chainsaw roared to life, filling the room with a violent, rough growling. Aunt Angelina woke with a start, sitting up and rubbing her eyes.

“Ciel, what are you doing?! Have you any idea what time it is?” she questioned with an irritated squawk. “I swear, you’re simply–” When she opened her eyes to glare at me she recognized the chainsaw humming loudly and the violence flashing behind my eye. “Ciel? Turn that off… and put it down.” She raised her hands and slowed her speech, willing me to calm with the evenness of her tone.

“Angelina Dalles-Burnett, I tire of your face. I tire of your voice. Wiping you out of existence will be the only source of true joy you’ll ever bring me.” I felt a smirk pull on the edges of my lips. 

“Wait! No!” she shouted,” “Please! I’ll be better to you! Is something wrong? Is something bothering you? Turn that off and let’s talk about it!” 

“No.”

“Ciel, please, I–” 

I ripped the words right out of her body, shoving the chainsaw right through her stomach; she offered little to no resistance. With the strength of adrenaline and vengeance, I twisted and pulled until there was no life in her anymore; she was just the mangled carcass of a horrible woman. The chainsaw spat blood and gore about the room, thoroughly covering her, and I, and everything else.

“Alas, the walls are just the right color for this occasion.” I heard Grell comment, the chainsaw slowed and died, jagged teeth still stuck within my late aunt’s abdomen. With the last of my strength, I tugged the chainsaw free, listening to her bones give and snap off and her blood gurgle.

“Yes, Grell,” I replied, “I guess you’re right.” I brought my sleeve up to my face to wipe the blood from my eyes, suddenly very tired. “I have a feeling that this will be my best night’s sleep in three years.” I said aloud. 

I walked back to my room, dragging the bloodied chainsaw. I set it on the bed and crawled in beside it. Of course, I heard the sirens, and the neighbors jostling about above me, probably alarmed, as they should be. I’m sure there’ll be hell to pay in the morning. But I was satisfied and exhausted. Sleep was easy to achieve. My fingers played around with the teeth of the chainsaw that laid beside me as I slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> follow my tumblr? mylifeisaverageish.tumblr.com


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys, sorry for the wait. this chapter is kinda rushed because I was really excited for the next one. sorry bout that
> 
>  **done** 160816

“Stay put,” a rather large officer grunted from behind me. 

He knelt down behind me, one hand deftly feeding one end of a ziptie through the lock and the other bruising my wrists. At this angle, he had to press my hands into the back rung of the metal chair he was binding me to, only adding to my discomfort.

I was sat in a small room with four chairs, a long table dividing them, and a mirror that was obviously a window to the observation room where the detectives and police officers could watch me barely react to being tied down. So I sat there, waiting with my hands ziptied behind my back. I felt nothing; no guilt, no fear, no remorse. I wondered if I’m the first thirteen year old sociopathic killer this station had ever met. Surely, I hoped, it’s only fun when I’m the only one.

“Oh dear, aren’t we in trouble.” Grell whispered to me in an unbothered voice, simply stating the obvious. I rolled my eyes, not bothering to look to see where his voice was coming from.

“Well, clearly,” I huffed, quite finished with the whole ordeal. “If you actually expected us to get away with this, you’re sorely mistaken. I just wish they’d move on and sentence me already. I’m tired of this melodrama.”

Two men entered the questioning room, a detective and his emergency muscle. I guess they assumed I’m dangerous and had forgotten that I’m barely 5’4, barely weigh 45k. Silly beings, humans are. The detective had a look of disconcerted pity on his face. The other police officer remained stoic as most officers tend to be. Uninterested in the obvious questions they wanted to ask me, I continued to bicker with Grell. Everyone wrestles with their conscience, so I thought they’d understand that this was far more important that a pointless interrogation. 

“Ciel Phantomhive,” he said, trying to gain my full attention, “Do you know why you’re here?” The detective muddled his words together, mumbling in a gruff morning voice. He might’ve been Scottish, butchering the language I speak and admire with a dialect only other Scots could fully understand. 

“Well,” I drawled, pulling away from my argument with annoyance, “It’s five o’clock on a Saturday morning, I’m covered in blood and my legal guardian appears to be disemboweled. Yes, I think we can see a reason for me to be here this morning, sir.”

“We?” the detective asked.

“Yes. We.”

“I’m Detective Fisher,” he said slowly, changing the subject, “and this is Officer Jenson,” the officer waved, “We have some questions for you.”

“Proceed,” I dared, “I love question games.”

“We know what you did to Miss Dalles, Ciel. If you cooperate we might be able to help you.” Fisher said, trying to pour as much seriousness into this statement as possible. I let out a small laugh before I could catch it and hold it in.

“Well, that’s not a question, is it Grell?”

“Hardly, darling, hardly.” he whispered, his voice as thin as the air around me.

“I guess that means I win. What a waste of time.” I said in a low voice, looking into Detective Fisher’s eyes. Little did I know, he had been writing down my every word as well as notes like, _ask the therapist who ‘Grell’ is_ and _overdeveloped sense of competition?_

“What was going through your mind?” he asked me after a moment of silence.

“And what moment in time do you speak of, Mr. Fisher?” I asked, feigning innocence.

“When you mutilated your family, you little shit.” the officer spoke up suddenly. I felt a familiar angry heat rising in my chest.

“How dare you–”

“Hey, Hey!” Fisher intervened, although he’d been too late to stop me.

“You dragged me into your house of police brutality and prejudice, bind me to a chair, and you have the gall to speak about my family in this way?” I started, suddenly realizing my bonds were, all and all, probably a good idea.

“Look kid, you–”

“No.” I hissed through my teeth, balling my hands into fists, searching for some outlet for my rage. “You don’t seem to understand, do you.” I glared deep into the officer’s eyes, “I watched my parents die. Heard their voices begging me not to join them. My childhood was taken from me, and I had to massacre that heartless bitch for anyone to see that. I don’t care who you are, Jenson. You’ll never know the suffering I’ve had to endure. But I do know, you’d better hope and pray to your nonexistent God that I do not find you. You disrespected my family. I felt nothing when I tore open Aunt Angelina, I certainly won’t feel sorry for you.”

Fisher sat there, across from me, shocked. His hand had stopped mid sentence on his notepad, probably jotting down my threats as I made them. Jenson stood there, debating whether or not to attack me or leave the room. He cleared his throat, rolling anger out of his shoulders.

“Ciel..?” Fisher asked, after a moment of heated silence.

“Yes.” I said, turning my gaze towards him.

“I’d like to invite your therapist in to talk about our options.”

“He’s going to have some interesting things to say, won’t he? Sounds fun,” Grell purred.

“Ugh,” I scoffed, “You’re too easily pleased.”

“And proud of it!” he exclaimed. Fisher and Jenson exchanged a look of confusion. Fisher shrugged and waited for me to answer his question.

“That dunce? I hardly see how he enters into it, but do as you please.” I said, oblivious to their confusion. Fisher turned toward the mirror and waved whoever was on the other side of it to come in. My therapist entered timidly into the room. He’d seen my outburst and was just as shocked as Fisher and Jenson are, and rightfully so.

“Hello, Ciel.” he greeted politely. I scoffed and rolled my eyes.

“Dr. Langsbury, will you ask the boy for permission to share his files with us?” Fisher asked loud enough so I could hear. What was he playing at? I sat up, suddenly interested.

“Go ahead, Doctor, why don’t you read it out loud.” I challenged, secretly curious about what it might say. I usually storm out before we debrief. He fumbled with his briefcase, trying to get it open and retrieve the file.

“Uh, Ciel Phantomhive: age, thirteen. History: Orphaned at the age of ten, and placed into the care of his mother’s sister, Angelina Dalles-Burnett. Shows all signs relating to Comorbid Antisocial Personality Disorder and Schizophrenia…” He paused to gauge my reaction. I remained calm on the outside, but I couldn’t hear myself think. Grell murmured his thoughts continuously, not giving me a moment of silence to form a single sentence for myself. I needed to address it before I could focus.

“Honestly, man, could you shut your mouth for two seconds!” I snapped at the corner of the room, where Grell’s voice originated. There was no redheaded man, but with him talking so much, I didn’t notice how strange that really was.

“Speaks with whom he has named Grell. He says he is a grim reaper who’s become his conscience…” Dr. Langsbury read in a small voice. Fisher watched me carefully. I couldn’t pay attention; Grell’s voice clouded my thoughts with his constant chatter. I doubled over, hitting my head on the table where it came to rest. It hurt, but not as much as the buzzing in my ears as the voice multiplied, filling the room. It seemed like he was trying to drown everything else out. All I could hear was his voice, yet I couldn’t make out the words. I lifted my head off the table for it to land heavily again. It felt too heavy to do anything with, heavy with the weight of a thousand words. I began to tremble and pull at my wrists, trying to find some way out of them to cover my ears and find some relief.

“Ciel? Langsbury, what’s wrong?” Fisher asked my therapist.

“This has happened before, but he claims to have forgotten after each episode. He created a persona he calls Grell and this Grell, of his, is the personality of his conscience. Ciel first started talking about him in our third session when he was ten. He said the grim reaper that had taken his parents had come to like him. This reaper made a deal to stay with Ciel forever and be his conscience if he promised to make life interesting, to which Ciel obliged. He goes through periods without activity from Grell, and/or forgets about him entirely. I guess this was the first time he’s heard from him in a while. I never thought Ciel would do something like this…”

“He stole a chainsaw from the neighbour and hid it under his bed.” Fisher replied as a matter of fact.

“What are you talking about, no I didn’t!” I yelled, struggling to keep up with the conversation with all the noise buzzing in my head. “It was there the whole time. I had no part in placing it there. It’s not even mine, it’s Grell’s.” The buzzing grew into a roar that made my eardrums ache. The space behind my eyes felt hot, some of this heat pouring from the empty socket of my right eye and pooling behind the patch I wore over it. I whined and fought my bonds, wanting nothing more than to stop the noise, to assess what was happening with my patched eye, scared it was bleeding or something horrific like that. The three men looked at me with a mixture of caution and pity.

“Ciel, it was just an ordinary chain–” Grell roared and growled, drowning out any other sound. My ears rung painfully, the voices rattling around in my skull, leaving a throbbing pain wherever they collided with bone and nerves.

“Will someone silence this wretched noise!” I yelled again. “Let me out! I can’t take this anymore. It’s too loud!” I pulled at the ziptie holding my hands behind me. I could feel it digging into my wrists, bruising my already fair skin. Jenson stood up off the wall he was leaning on, ready to set me straight, but Fisher waved him off. He sat forward, getting closer to me, now a trembling mess much to my chagrin.

“Ciel, are you alright?” he asked speaking softly. His voice, somehow penetrating the wall of furious grable in my mind.

“What’s happening to me…” I whined into the table, still pressing my forehead to it.  
“You’re having an episode,” Dr. Langsbury chimed in. His words were just as soft as Fisher’s. “You’re too young to officially diagnose and too small to medicate. You’ll have to sweat through it, but we know a place that can help you, Ciel. You’ll be okay.” 

“But… what about Angelina? Aren’t I in trouble?” I asked as tears prickled my eyes. My head hurt, my wrists burned, I was covered in blood, and I needed answers. I felt vulnerable, one of the few emotions I could still feel, and how I hated feeling it.

“We’ll take down your confession tomorrow. For now you’ll be sent to Faustus Mental Institution for your psychological evaluation. We’ll see if you stand fit for trial after that.” Fisher spoke slowly and steadily, which helped me gain some of my composure. My head ached and my eye burned and I wish I could sleep this off, but I knew I couldn’t, not without having the same horrific dream. 

Jenson scooped me up and carried me out of the investigation room. I wouldn’t tell him this, but I didn’t trust my legs to carry me with this weight in my head. I would’ve needed him to carry me regardless, and I was thankful. I was put into the back seat of a patrol car. I rested my head on the window, my body heat quickly fogging the glass. Grell still screamed in my head, the words still jumbled about unintelligibly. I whined as my head throbbed horribly. Fisher and Langsbury took their places in the front seat, Fisher in the driver’s seat, and we left for Faustus Mental Institution.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> follow my tumblr? pommeboy.tumblr.com


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a few disclaimers: I know the pc term is "Northumberand" but I grew up saying "Northumbria" so that's what I went with. This chapter is mostly breakdowns and character introductions. Hope you enjoy!

I fell into a fitful sleep, easily disturbed by the jostling of the car. Fisher and Langsbury chatted quietly in the front about nothing in particular. The sun kept the interior of the car warm and damp. The tinted windows didn’t really help much, save for barely keeping the sun out of my eye, which made the ride all the more uncomfortable. Grell had calmed significantly once the long, 6 hour drive to Juniper had begun. His voice had quieted to small, angry mumblings, clearly unhappy with the outcome of the situation. My head still throbbed terribly and my right eye felt like it did when it had been removed, burning and empty. Such profound, unavoidable emptiness…

The morning has passed and noon pressed on, but, since it was winter, the sun headed for the hills early, making short work of the trip through the grey sky. At what felt like 12:30, though I can’t be certain, The texture of the road shifted from smooth and civilized to rough and unexplored. I spent the next short while pondering that particular poem by Robert Frost, not interested enough in seeing where we were. I’m being sent to a sanitarium, likely to be surrounded by grey nothingness. What’s there to be interested in? My thoughts were disturbed when the car darkened considerably, to the point where I had to investigate. We’d entered a dense forest, very uncharacteristic for Northumbria, which was usually moors and valleys. 

“W-Where are we?” I asked, cursing my voice for sounding so naive. The last thing I wanted them to think was that I’m any less mature than they were. 

“Oh, you’re awake,” Langsbury replied, acting surprised but knowing very well that I can’t sleep, “We’re on our way to Faustus Mental Institution. It’s an old building off the main road. It’s about ten miles north the village.” 

“Once we get there they’ll perform their evaluations and see if you’re fit to stand trial. If you are, you may return to London, if you aren’t you’ll stay here until you’re 18.” Fisher added grimly. I gazed out the window, watching the trees go by. 

“Hmm. Well I guess this could prove to be some adventure. We could escape and terrorize the village,” Grell mused. I ignored him, feeling hurt that he would embarrass me so. I don’t regret putting an end to Aunt Red; I was comfortable with the consequences. But Grell, wouldn’t let me submit. It’s like he wanted to take over my mind, and it scared me. It seemed like the more I ignored him, the more irritated he got, the more erratic buzzing played on in my head. “You won’t ignore me, Ciel. I will not be ignored.” he growled over the static.

“What do you want from me,” I whined, my head pounded against the cool glass of the windows, “I’ve done what you’ve asked, it’s time to face the consequences.”

“Don’t forget our deal, boy.” he whispered right into my ear, sending a cold shiver down my spine, “You live, you entertain me. I’m not entertained, Ciel, so…” Suddenly, then all at once, my throat began to burn like fire. I coughed, feeling the soreness grow and spread to my lungs. I felt an invisible hand clamp down on my throat, crushing my esophagus. My joints froze. I tried to move but I could only sit there, leaned against the window, paralysed. Fisher heard me gasping and sputtering quietly behind him. He called my name, immediately stopping the car in the middle of the road. 

“Ciel, what’s happening, what’s wrong.” he stated, observing that I couldn’t even breathe. I found enough strength to pull my hand up from my side and weakly claw at my throat. My whole body felt like I’d been filled to the brim with lead and sand, so heavy I couldn’t move. “Langsbury, the hell’s going on with him, what do we know,” he looked briefly in his direction, giving him the cue to chime in anytime, now. He reached over his seat to pull me up to a full sitting position, trying to give my lungs as much room as possible.

“I don’t know!” Langsbury replied anxiously.

“What do you mean, you ‘don’t know’, Langsbury, he’s not breathing!” Fisher yelled, simultaneously trying to get me to calm down enough to tell him what was wrong.

“It seems as though he’s having a panic attack of some sort but it’s really unlike him. Unlike any others I’ve seen before, either!” The two men argued as I feebly fought to fill my lungs.

“Fine! I’ll sneak out! I’ll murder a village of foolish cockneys! I’ll do anything, just let me go!” my mind’s voice yelled into the sleepy, uncaring fog. Losing energy quickly, the fog thickened and I was certain death was near, yet I still kicked and screamed. 

“Lovely,” Grell whispered, a malign laugh in his voice. The grip on my throat loosened. I gasped, feeling the oxygen bring life to my limbs. The fog cleared and left within me an empty hopelessness. I vaguely registered the two men call my name as I crumpled into my lap. Huge tears rolled down my cheeks, but I didn’t care enough to stop them. I buried my face into my knees, sobbing quietly. Part of me was disgusted at this: me, convulsing pathetically, in front of other people, but this part was overthrown by the part of me that needed the comfort. The car door opened and my therapist took the spot next to me. He remained silent, rubbing between my shoulderblades, offering that comfort he knew I needed. Neither he, nor Fisher asked any questions, or said anything at all. Fisher started the car again with Langsbury at my side instead of in the front seat. 

It only took thirty minutes to reach our destination after this incident. The trees parted revealing a large, Victorian era Manor. After I’d calmed down a bit, I sat up to watch the world go by as the Manor drew closer. I knew my remaining eye was red and swollen, I knew my voice would be torn and ragged, but I didn’t care. I just needed a way to convince Grell that I could, in fact, escape. The building itself was old, perhaps its security was, too. 

The car slowed to a stop, parking in front of two large, black doors. Fisher turned to face me, probably meaning to speak, but noticed I wasn’t paying attention. He cleared his throat, silently pulling my focus away from the window. I looked up at him lifelessly, cheeks ruddy and throat sore. He knew I’d given up fighting for myself, though he didn’t know the full story of what had happened. He didn’t ask, and I was glad he didn’t. I didn’t want to say that I wasn’t my own person anymore. My rogue conscience had real, tangible power over me that I couldn’t bare to live through again. I was terrified, almost as terrified as the night of the fire. I couldn’t let my obstinance cause him to do that to me ever again. 

“Are you ready?” Fisher asked after a moment of communicative silence. I nodded, sniffing and rubbing my eyes, and disturbing my eyepatch, a final time. Langsbury had gotten out of the car and helped me out as well. Together, the three of us made for the door, where a grey haired man in a suit stood in wait. 

“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” he said as we approached, “This must be Ciel Phantomhive?” he asked Fisher, who nodded. 

“Ciel, this is Tanaka, head of security,” Fisher started, Tanaka waved in my direction, his smile cheerful. “He’s a good man to have on your side, Ciel. Dont be afraid to--”

“I’m not afraid.” I said sharply, tensing up involuntarily. I closed my eyes and exhaled, “Charmed, Mr. Tanaka.” 

“Oh, no need for the title, my boy, I’m just the friendly neighbourhood security guard.” he said, laughing in short bursts, which was, no doubt in my mind, going to be one of his defining characteristics. He seemed more like a butler to me. In fact, he seemed to fit the time period of the house very well. It was quite odd, but I put it out of my mind. “Right this way, gents” Tanaka said, guiding us through the door and into the main hall. 

“That’s the most I’ve heard him say in my whole, bloody life,” Fisher whispered to me. I smiled, understanding why this was funny. I quickly realized I was smiling and reset my poker face, trying to remain as stoic as possible. Fisher smirked but left it alone. 

We followed Tanaka through the house and into a study where a thin, bespectacled man sat behind a desk. He was very elegant, from his physical being to his attire. Not a single thing was out of place, not a hair, nor a thread, nothing. He, like Tanaka, was dressed to suit the style of the house, also looking sort of like a butler in a black suit and white gloves. This man thanked Tanaka for his services and excused him. He invited us to sit down in front of his desk, probably to talk about why I’m here, and why I look so distraught. 

“Claude Faustus,” he introduced himself to me, and only me, seeming to know Fisher and Langsbury very well, or not caring about them at all, “owner of this establishment. And you might be?” he asked. I didn’t hear him as I’d become lost in his appearance, and by I, I mean Grell. 

“Oh how fortunate we are!” he practically squealed, “Ciel, we have to stay! It would be rude of us not to accept this mans… hospitality!” I could feel him clapping and jumping up and down like a little girl in the corner of the room. 

“Nice save.” I muttered under my breath, still angry with him over what had happened not an hour ago. I remembered where I was and looked up at the man quickly. His eyes, an unconventional shade of gold, which was unnerving in itself, bore deep into mine, slightly annoyed with my rudeness. “Ciel Phantomhive, please excuse me, I’ve had a long day.” I replied to his question, staring into his eyes. 

“Well it certainly seems that way. We’ll have to have a chat about that sometime soon.” Another very elegant man stepped into the doorway. He waved at us and took a seat. Now this man was a slightly more human version of Claude, still very neat and well kempt, but hair fell into his eyes here and there and he showed some emotion. Again, the theme of the house displayed in his attire. “This is Sebastian Michaelis, your psychologist and supervisor, you will address him as he sees fit and you will address me as Sir and nothing more until you’ve earned it.” 

“Pleasure.” my new psychologist said, giving me a small nod. “I will be addressed as Sir, as well, and nothing more.” 

“Fortune smiles again! Oh my God, this one’s cuter than the first one!” Grell praised, continuing to turn into mush. 

“Oh please,” I rolled my eyes, not thinking about my surroundings at all until it was too late. 

“Excuse me.” Claude Faustus said in a low, menacing voice. Grell moaned, spouting more of his vulgarities. I simply stared back. I didn’t care what this man did to me, as long as I’m me, I’ll be unhappy, so his punishments didn’t matter. Langsbury looked scared for my life and Fisher just shook his head, confident my attitude would get me into a lot of trouble down the road. What I didn’t expect was for my psychologist to chime in.

“What did he say?” he asked. I blinked. I knew he’d probably had access to my files since this morning, but I still didn’t expect him to ask about my conscience so early, nor did I expect to have to explain his apparent promiscuous nature. 

“Nothing.” I replied, willing a blush away. There was no way on this earth I would ever blush. Ever. I’d sooner die. 

“Let’s discuss this in a more confidential environment,” he said, lowering his voice and keeping the words between us. “We’ll return after a short chat, gentlemen, excuse us.” Slightly shocked but too stoic to show it, I followed this man out the door and across the hall to an almost identical office. He closed the door behind us. He gestured to a chair for me to sit in while settling into his own. 

“How was the drive, Ciel? London’s quite far from Juniper.” he asked cheerfully, trying to break the ice. 

“It was fine, Sir.” I replied simply. 

“Sebastian,” he corrected, “though if Claude is anywhere nearby, you must call me Sir. He likes to run a tight ship. I’m sure you’ll understand.” I nodded. 

“The drive was fine, Sebastian.” I mimicked, feeling really uncomfortable with Grell’s less than tasteful commentary. Sebastian wasn’t a bad looking guy at all. He was tall, thin, pale, the works for any classic, mysteriously attractive person. He looked very similar to Claude, or even how Tanaka might’ve looked fifty years ago. His eyes, unlike Claude’s, were a peculiar shade of brown, almost looking red in the light. 

“Oh, I like this one, Ciel.” Grell went on, “Imagine what the rest of him looks like.” 

“That’s ghastly and uncalled for, you be quiet.” I shivered, likely resembling how any 13 year old boy would react to anything along those lines, annoyed and uncomfortable. Sebastian laughed, embarrassing me further.

“May I ask what he’s said now?” he smirked, reading me like an open book of shame and hormones. 

“I don’t know what you mean.” I responded quickly, wanting to avoid the subject entirely. I wanted to get back to Fisher and Langsbury, people I knew and hated, but instead I’m here with someone I don’t know and am slightly interested in getting to know. Naturally, I was very unhappy with my situation. 

“Well, that’s no way to start off, now is it?” Sebastian pressed, seeming to be honestly curious, not being a pushy therapist. I remained silent, not knowing what to say even if I wanted to answer. “How about this,” he pulled out a copy of my file, “How about I’ll tell you what I know, and you can tell me if it’s true or not. How does that sound?” 

“Alright, I love games.” I said halfheartedly, knowing this would end badly. Sebastian just smiled and started listing facts about me.

“Let’s see,” he started, paging through my file, “You’re thirteen years old, pretty independent, maybe a little stubborn…”

“It doesn’t say that in there, you’re supposed to tell me what you know, not what you think.” I glared at him, quickly growing tired of his conjectures. He pondered this for a moment. After a while he shrugged and recited facts from my file, seeming to have something else on his mind. Most everything was completely true, leaving me to nod my agreement after each statement was read. Like I’d guessed, we quickly approached the subject of Grell.

“Have you _seen_ him before, or has he always been a complete part of your mind?” Sebastian asked, purposely avoiding the subject of why I was here. He had a way of looking at me, conveying complete, genuine interest instead of just asking to have it on the records. I found myself opening up to him, despite my better judgement. 

“I do see him sometimes, but he’s too lazy to put effort into it, so those times are few and far between.” I said, taunting Grell, who pouted.

“What does he look like?” Sebastian asked innocently. Grell exclaimed and appeared right behind him in a puff of cliche, red smoke. 

“Go on, Ciel! Tell him how hot I am!” he beckoned, posing to himself, knowing I was the only one that could see him. I could only sit there, dumbfounded and wide eyed. He was there, and so realistic I could touch him. Sebastian noticed my shocked attention to the space just behind him. His face lit up for a split second before settling into a highly provocative smirk. Hardly an expression appropriate for this situation, but it meant that he knew, or guessed, what Grell thinks of him. He turned around, glancing at thin air over his shoulder, and waved. Grell’s eyes lit up as he swooned over someone he knew couldn’t see him. 

“Ciel could you describe our guest? I, being a mere mortal, cannot see a such divine being as your Grim Reaper. How lucky you must be to have your very own.” Grell just stood there, behind Sebastian, as his nose started to bleed violently. He stood quietly for a few second before jumping onto the desk and praising the gods.

“Thank you, for making such a being! Ciel did you hear? He said I was divine!” I jumped in my seat, completely shocked, very confused, and very embarrassed. 

“Uh…” I started, not sure what to say, “He’s tall and thin, much like yourself…”

“And?” Sebastian pressed, sultry smirk in full effect. 

“Green eyes, red hair, and wears spectacles.” I said quickly as Grell hopped of the desk, strutting over to Sebastian and pressing his face in the juncture between Sebastian’s shoulder and neck. “What on earth are you doing!?” My hands flinched from my lap, wanting to cover my eyes, but catching myself before I looked too childish. Sebastian remained completely unphased. 

“I can’t feel his warmth,” Grell whined. He looked over to me with a wide grin, showing long sharp teeth. I shivered, unable to think of any idea as to what he might be thinking. “Come here,” he said, waving me over, “I’m sure if you tried it, I’d feel what you felt. Right now I’m just a bundle of _your_ nerves, you need to calm down.” I whimpered, beginning to feel very trapped. Sebastian’s aura was making me hot in all of the wrong places. I shrank back into my chair, hoping I’d disappear. Grell stomped his foot, pouting furiously, “Ciel! Get over here!” I jumped again, quickly pulling my knees to my chest and shaking my head furiously. Just like that, the room seemed to get darker. Grell growled low in his throat, eyes aglow. He took a step closer to me, releasing Sebastian who was watching me intently. 

“Don’t you dare touch me,” I warned, trying desperately not to let my fear show through, and failing miserably. We were soon face to face, Grell so close to me, I could feel the air moving as he huffed angrily through his nose. 

“Don’t forget our deal. Don’t forget what I can make you do.” Suddenly, my fingernails dug roughly into my bare legs, pulling up the skin into red, ragged paths, some even beginning to bleed. I cried out, trying to stop myself from making it any worse, but my hands moved by their own accord, leaving red, bloody stripes up and down my legs. 

Sebastian, having been worriedly calling my name for the past several minutes, jumped up from his seat, quickly making his way to me. He ripped my hands from my legs, holding my wrists. Grell fought for control, but quickly gave up, grumpily leaving the room. I gasped and sobbed, trying to regain some semblance of calm. Frightened tears stained my cheeks. I trembled violently and slowly pulled my hands from Sebastian’s grip. The blood and skin on my fingers and under my nails as well as on my legs had ruined his pristine, white gloves. Once I’d calmed a bit, he returned to his desk, not caring to remove the soiled gloves. 

“Shall we continue our game?” he asked simply. 

“What..?”

“I know that this ‘Grell’ you’ve conjured is a chronic hallucination you have developed, hence your Schizophrenia diagnosis. He’s there to justify your need for revenge and justice, no doubt stemming from the death of your parents, the loss of your eye, and the emotional abuse from your Aunt. He poses as your conscience, even though he’s merely a parasite, stealing your energy, ruining your life, and keeping you scared. Am I wrong?” I was speechless. I brought my hands up to cover my face in shock, accidentally smearing blood onto my cheeks. 

“You…” my voice shook, “You manipulated me. You provoked him and made him do this to me… Then tell me I invented him?” My stomach was in my throat and my heart sank to fill its empty place. 

“I realize now that it wasn’t executed properly, and I apologize. But I assure you, Grell is not real. There is plenty I can infer about _you_ now, But I’ll save that for our next session.” 

“Next session? Next session.” I asked, shaking and betrayed, “There won’t be a next session, Sir. Stay away from me.” I stood to leave, not caring about how scratched and bloody I was. I needed to put as much distance between he and I as possible. 

“Ciel, you murdered a woman with a chainsaw in cold blood.” he said, stopping me in my tracks, “That was you. You did that to her, and you won’t get away with it. I’m afraid, with the severity of your mental state, you won’t be leaving here for a long time. Tanaka will show you to your room and whomever your roommate is will show you the ropes.” 

I left the room and headed to the office where Fisher and Langsbury were speaking with Claude. The three of them looked up when I entered the room and sat amongst them. Claude seemed indifferent, but Fisher and Langsbury looked very concerned, and rightfully so. 

“What happened.” Fisher asked. I appreciated his ‘no nonsense’ way of doing things. Claude handed Langsbury a box of tissues, eyes trained on me. Langsbury attempted to clean my wounds, but I slapped his hand away. I won’t be babied under any circumstances. 

“He tried to kill me.” I said simply, staring down at my shoes. Fisher stood and left the room, perhaps to get the full story from Sebastian. 

“Who.” Claude asked, looking deep into my eye. I saw some unfamiliar emotion in his, one I couldn’t place. “Michaelis?” His gaze raked over my legs. He didn’t seem concerned at all at how badly scratched up I was, but he seemed very upset at whoever touched me. 

“No, my conscience.” I replied, watching his eyes trail up to mine from my legs. I felt strange, First Sebastian, now Claude. Both had given me strangely erotic looks in the short time I’d been here. Grell didn’t seem to mind a bit, but I did. Langsbury quickly and sparingly explained the car incident to Claude, briefly going over my not-diagnoses as well. I’m too young to fully diagnose, hence my ‘not.’ 

Tanaka showed up at the door, gesturing for me to follow him, I assumed, to the infirmary, then to the dormitories, laughing his iconic laugh all the while. Fisher had returned from Sebastian’s office and it was time to say goodbye. Before this new incident, I was ready for them to leave me here, but now that I’ve been betrayed, I clung helplessly to Fisher and Langsbury for as long as possible before they drove away, back to London. Tanaka led me to the infirmary like I’d guessed. A young, excitable nurse named Meirin cleaned my scratches and sent me on my way. We stopped at a door, presumably to my room. I tentatively opened the door before realizing Tanaka wasn’t going to follow me in. 

“Thank you, Tanaka.” I said, glad at least one person in this place was trustworthy for now. He smiled sadly, as if to say ‘I’m sorry about today, hope you feel better’, and ran a hand through my hair, ruffling it. I gave him a small smile back, appreciating the comfort. He nodded and walked away, laughing as he went.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> follow my tumblr? mylifeisaverageish.tumblr.com


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoa 2 chapters in one day? whoa. 
> 
> i actually wanted this to be a part of chapter 5 as well but it really needed to be broken up a bit. 
> 
> tell me what you think, guys!

I entered the dark room cautiously. It was a fairly large, lavish room, hardly appropriate for a mental facility, but I guess this is the way Claude wanted it to be. I spotted a bed in the corner of the room to my left. The door blocked the right corner of the room from my view. I stepped quietly into the room. The lights were off, making it pitch black. The drapes must’ve been drawn. 

“H-Hello..?” I asked the air, Sebastian had said something about a roommate? There was no one in the bed to the left, so I assumed it was mine. I padded over to it, discovering a lamp on a nightstand next to the bed. I switched it on and it offered some light, but not enough to fully illuminate the room. Someone had left a small pile of white t shirts and grey sweat pants on the bed for me, probably here for me to wear until they send my effects. I climbed up onto the bed, bringing my knees up to my chest and sighing sadly. I felt so alone, so lost. I couldn’t stop the hopeless tears from sliding down my cheeks and agitating the scratches on my legs.

“And who might you be?” A voice asked in the dark. 

“Hello?” I asked, alarmed. The voice giggled playfully, coming closer. “Who’s there? Stay away from me.” A shape, barely perceivable in the darkness of the room, sauntered over to me, swinging its hips as it went. Out of the dark, a boy crawled up the bed to look me dead in the eye. He was a slight, blond boy, wearing the tightest, smallest pair of shorts I’ve ever seen. He stared at me with bright blue eyes, lighter and happier than my own. 

“Well?” he asked curious as to who this stranger in his room might be. 

“Who wants to know..?”

“Clever,” he giggled, crawling even closer, “I’m Alois” he smiled at me, “and you are?”

“Ciel..” I said, backing away until my back hit the headboard and Alois kept crawling forward. He inadvertently brushed against my legs, irritating the scratches and causing me to hiss. He looked down, gasping at how angry the wounds looked. He lied down on my bed, propping himself up on his elbows. His right hand danced over the scratches, barely touching my skin, while he rested his chin in his left. 

“You have Claude, too, don’t you” he asked, immersed in tracing my scratches, “He likes it rough like this. Though I don’t know why he would scratch your _legs_ when the rest of you seems so much more... vulnerable.” He grinned at me. I was far too horrified to act upon this egregious behavior, but I certainly could ponder it. Who the hell was this kid, why is he touching me, and what is he insinuating?! Before I could retaliate, he drew in closer, resting a hand on my cheek. 

“Y’know I can fix you, you’re so tense.You need to relax.” He closed the space between us slowly and before I knew what what happening, he was kissing me, and I was ready to murder him. Luckily for me, a woman heard my struggle and peeked inside. 

“Alois, leave him alone! Keep your hands to yourself!” She scolded, making wide strides across the room to pull him off of me. I roughly wiped my mouth, putting serious thought into how I was going to kill him. 

“Get your hands off of me, wench!” Alois spat at the woman. 

“Hannah, Alois, that’s quite enough for one night.” Claude now stood in the doorway with indifference. He gestured for Alois to follow him, and said boy wasted no time in complying. 

“Child murderer.” Alois hissed under his breath before leaving the room with Claude, who’d given me the same unreadable look. It vaguely resembled possessiveness, which left me confused, angry, flustered, and unnerved. Hannah, I guess her name was, sat down on the far corner of my bed, not invading my personal space, which I appreciated. 

“Is everyone here mad..?” I asked her quietly, feeling hopeless and sorry for myself as I stared down at my knees. 

“I’m afraid so,” she sighed, her long greyish, periwinkle hair covering her eyes. “I’m sorry about Alois. He seems to forget he can control his nymphomania.”

“I see,” I looked up at her, feeling like I could trust her like I can trust Tanaka. “That must be what he’s in here for.” She nodded. 

“He’s Claude’s little pet, you see, so any of his misconduct goes unnoticed, best be wary.” she looked up at me, her hair parting, revealing a bandage over her left eye. 

“Did he do this to you?” I asked slowly, trying to mask my anger. How dare he maim this woman like that. She nodded again.

“I deserved it though, I accidentally killed his brother…” a tear slid down her face then was lost to her hair. 

“And that’s why you’re here.”

“Yes…”

“Will you show me around a bit, Hannah? I don’t trust anyone else, but you seem to have a decent head on your shoulders.” She smiled and I smiled back. 

“Well, this is your room,” she said, “You have to share with Alois, unfortunately. Once he grows accustomed to your face, he’ll leave you alone.” I made a face, but let her continue. “If you didn’t bring all of your clothes and personal artifacts, they’ll be shipped here. We all eat in the dining hall at 8am, 12pm, and 6pm. You meet with your psychologist every day at the same designated time. Sometimes we go outside, but mostly roam the house. Everyone must be in their bedrooms by 10pm or suffer the consequences.That’s about it.” She gave me a genuine smile, “It’s not all bad here, Ciel. I don’t care what you did, we all make mistakes. I’m here for you if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Hannah,” I said sincerely, “that means a lot to me. I’m very sorry about your eye…” I let my fingertips graze my eyepatch, knowing there wasn’t a damn thing underneath. 

“Well, I’ll leave you to your thoughts. I’m across the hall if you need anything. Nice meeting you, Ciel.” She smiled again, stood, and left me in my room. 

I spent the remainder of the day faffing about in my room. Grell didn’t speak to me for the rest of the day, which I was perfectly fine with. Claude stopped in to hand me an oversized nightshirt and a bottle of sleep medication, saying it should help me learn to sleep again. The dosage said to only take one, but I took three in a desperate attempt to fall asleep before Alois returned so he wouldn’t assault me again. The pills worked slowly, progressively making me sleepier and sleepier until I couldn’t stand on my own. I climbed into bed, barely making it all the way into it before drifting off into the first real sleep I’ve gotten in years. I didn’t hear Alois creep in and get into his bed. He crawled in bed and switched out his light attempting to sleep. 

“Ciel…?” Alois whispered from his side of the room. “Are you awake?” he sat up in bed and strained his eyes to see if I’d moved any in the darkness. I couldn’t hear him. The medication was working overtime. I was completely unconscious, and happy for it, I needed sleep now more than anything. Alois screwed up his face and folded his arms over his chest in a serious pout. He kicked his blankets away, got out of bed, and started towards me, making sure to stay quiet. He crept towards me, slowly closing the space between him and I. 

“Ciel…” he whispered. After gaining no response, he knelt down and leaned in close to my ear. “Ciel, wake up, I’m bored.” he said a tad louder. I didn’t stir from my deep sleep, although his voice penetrated the fog in my mind. I could hear him, but I couldn’t rouse myself from my stupor. I didn’t mind it, though, as I just ignored him and continued to sleep. “Ciel, wake up.” Alois whined at full volume. He clapped his hands once, again no response. He groaned and turned to stalk back to his bed, but before actually doing so, he got an idea.

He turned towards me with a very mischievous look on his face. He slowly, cautiously, peeled my blankets from me. I shivered and pawed around searching for them, but didn’t fully awaken. Alois quietly leapt up onto my bed with the grace of a cat, crawling towards me with that same mischievous smirk. I, only in the large, thin nightshirt, shivered again, bringing my legs up to my chest, trying to conserve heat. I felt my wounds brush against each other and whimpered, torn between pain and comfort. The intruder in my bed watched me for a while, memorizing the shape of my body, pondering what I might look like without such baggy clothing hindering his view. Alois settled in behind me, pulling a blanket over us. I sighed, finally warm again, and continued to sleep. Now was his chance to continue his plan, now that he was confident I wouldn’t awaken any time soon, thanks to the pills.

He slid his hand over my shoulder, causing me to whimper at the sudden coldness. He brought the hand up and into my hair, petting and playing with it as he pleased. I sighed, occasionally making small sounds of content, the pets and touches relaxing me further into sleep. 

“Ciel?” Alois asked, keeping his voice just above a whisper. 

“W-Wha..?” I replied, hearing my name but not conscious enough to fully understand. 

“Have you ever been pleasured?” he asked, whispering into my ear as I slept. I felt warm, too warm, but couldn’t understand why or what to do with sleep clouding my mind. I shook my head lazily, burrowing into my pillow. He continued to pet my hair, scraping his nails along my scalp as he went. I moaned contentedly, pushing backwards into the hand. 

“Aw, do you like this?” Alois giggled, thoroughly enjoying his little discovery, “Do you like it when I touch you this way?” He removed his hand from my hair completely and watched for a reaction. 

“Don’t stop,” I whined, pushing the blanket off, feeling hot and consequently pushing my shirt away, uncovering most of my shoulder. Alois giggled rather deviously, but resumed his petting. I turned my head, nuzzling into his hand and successfully making myself hotter, most of the heat gathering in my stomach. Alois grinned, looking at me like I was the first meal he’d have had in weeks. All I could do was let it happen, sleepiness clouding my judgement. He scooted backward, making enough room to ease me onto my back, still running his fingers through my hair. He sat up and moved to kneel before me, pushing my knees up and outward. I whined at the loss of the hand in my hair. The relaxation it brought soon faded and, slowly, I became more alert. Heavy levels of synthetic melatonin kept me from fully awakening, so I remained perched on the cusp of sleep and awakedness. Alois froze, staring at my face, waiting until he was sure I wouldn’t wake up before he continued. He wove both hands through my hair, pressing lightly against my scalp. I sighed, smiling ever so slightly at the lethargy spreading back through my limbs. 

“Do you enjoy this?” he asked from his position between my legs.

“Mhmm…” I hummed, rubbing my cheek into the palm of his hand. Alois made a face one would give a kitten, commenting on how adorable I was. I couldn’t hear him; I was too focused on how content I would be to stay like this forever. I hadn’t felt this peaceful in years. Just as I’d settled into this newfound calm, Alois brought his right hand down to my neck, barely touching my skin and reigniting that strange heat in my belly. I gasped and whimpered, hoping he’d actually commit to his touches and pet me more, but he didn’t. He continued to tease down to my collarbones and later my sternum. He pushed up my night shirt which gathered under my armpits and forced my arms up to rest above my head. 

“You’re so beautiful, you know that? Like a baby doll, so fragile” he mused, running his hands down my chest. He smirked at all the little gasps and whimpers I made, fully intending on hearing more of them, whatever it took. I could feel a fluttery heat filling the pit of my stomach. The discomfort pulled my consciousness up and out of sleep. 

“I do hope I get the chance to do this properly, but until the drugs wear off…” Alois shrugged as he hooked his fingers into the hem of my boxers. He leaned forward until he was inches from my face, “At least I have you for now.” 

“Ciel! Wake up! You won’t believe what this kid is doing to you!” Grell gasped between hysterics. His voice rousing me from sleep like shockwaves bring back the dead. I bolted upright, staring Alois Trancy dead in the eye, his hands still on my hips, clearly caught in the act. He released me and jumped off the bed.

“C-Ciel, I… I’m--” 

“It’s alright” I said calmly. 

“W-What?” Alois stammered, expecting me to be furious. He couldn’t believe his luck. 

“Yes, what he said.” Grell agreed, also confused. I gave Alois a smirk of my own, patting the bed beside me.

“Come here.” I ordered. Alois hesitated, feeling suspicious of my sudden kindness. “Don’t be shy. I know you want to.” I insisted. He smiled brightly, climbing onto the bed with the same feline grace. He lied down beside me, giving me the most seductive stare he could muster, though I couldn’t see it very well; it was still dark. I smirked back, climbing on top of him and pinning his wrists over his head. He could easily break free, I’m not that strong, but something told me this nymph didn’t want to be saved. 

“I was right,” he whispered, “you can’t resist me. No one can.” 

“Is that right.” I said. He giggled, bringing a hand up to run through my hair. I simply stared at him, completely emotionless. “Grell, give me your strength.” I silently asked the air. 

“What are you gonna do to me, Ciel” Alois asked, already whining like a whore. I could feel the heat pouring off of him; it disgusted me. 

“Something like this.” I released both of his wrists, put both my hands around his throat, and squeezed. “YOU. NYMPHOMANIAC. RAPIST. MOTHERFUCKER.” I screamed, punctuating each word with a tighter squeeze. Grell quickly got the picture, sending his power into me, helping me crush this slut’s windpipe. Alois kicked and fought, all the while looking very shocked and very betrayed. 

“Ciel, please. Let go.” he gasped, begging for a second chance.

“No.” I growled, “This is for Hannah’s eye.” I squeezed tighter, silencing him. 

“This is for taking advantage of my vulnerability.” I squeezed tighter, forcing tears from his eyes.

“This is for underestimating me.” The light in his eyes was quickly dimming. 

“See you in Hell, Alois Trancy.” Rage boiled from my soul, turning into the pressure needed to end his life. I guess my shout had been louder than I thought. Sebastian ran into the room, in night clothes, but seemed to not have been asleep at all. He ran across the room, pulling me off of Alois, who laid lifeless on my bed. 

“Meirin!” Sebastian yelled towards the hall. In scurried the nurse, just moments after being called. She worked to restore Alois to his former glory. I swore if Meirin saved Alois, I’d have to kill her too. Sebastian lifted me out of bed, effortlessly throwing me over his shoulder and taking me away. 

“Unhand me!” I screamed, “Just where do you think you’re taking me?!” 

“We have a lot to talk about, Ciel, I suggest you get your story straight.” Sebastian replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> follow my tumblr? mylifeisaverageish.tumblr.com


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm back from the dead! this chapter isn't all that edited, so if you see anything please please tell me. thank yous for liking my stories ^_^

“Let me go!” I yelled, despite Sebastian’s shoulder crushing my lungs. I couldn’t see where we were going but I knew I didn’t want to be there. I wanted to be in my room, taking more pills and hoping to wake up the next day not remembering a thing. I stopped struggling when I realized that resistance was futile. Sebastian was strong and I wasn’t, it’s as simple as that. I looked around, taking in my surroundings and notice that I actually have no idea where we were. I’d assumed we were going to his office to talk.

“Where are we going,” I asked cautiously. 

“To my dormitory, Claude’s locked up the rest of the house and I’ve misplaced my keys. Please forgive me, as I hadn’t had time to tidy up before you so rudely attempted Alois Trancy’s life.” Sebastian replied, oblivious to how my blood ran cold. Grell celebrated to himself, dancing about like a twelve year old girl. 

“Please put me down, Sir.” I asked as calmly and politely as I could. He simply reached around and patted my left side. I stiffened as his hand patted over my brand, the burned skin that marked me as someone else’s property. I remember, in vivid detail, the cult that had enslaved me just after my parents had died. I’d escaped, just barely, but even thinking about what had been done to me is enough to send shivers down my spine and tears down my cheeks. I’m thirteen; sometimes crying about certain things is my only coping strategy, though it strains my pride to admitting this.

Sebastian must’ve noticed either my reaction or the mark itself though my thin nightshirt. He put me down gently, standing by my side and watching me worriedly. I stared at my feet, adjusting my shirt so it wouldn't chafe the scratches on my legs, which already burned enough as it is. He held out a hand, still watching me. Without looking up I took it, keeping him close to me. I felt afraid, sad, and uncared for. Even though this man had just told me we were going to be alone in his bedroom, which disconcerts me to the fullest extent of the word, I didn’t want to be left alone, in the dark. I guess you could say I’d reverted to my more childlike tendencies. I needed someone to trust and my psychologist seemed like my best option. 

We walked hand in hand, to the other side of the house where the staff resided. At the end of a long corridor, we stopped and Sebastian led me inside. His room was very small and very plain. It was sparsely furnished with a small bed, a desk, a kitchen chair, a dresser, and a mirror. It was spotless, despite the comment he made, making it seem like it would be a bit lived in. Sebastian continued into the room and I stayed close to the door. His choice of sleepwear was very… current. I’d almost forgot t-shirts and sweat pants existed, since everyone in this house seemed to think it was 1888. Sebastian saw my confusion and practically read my mind. 

“Juniper truly is the land that time forgot, but that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten the time.” He said plainly, taking a seat in his chair. I stood awkwardly in the doorway, looking anywhere but at him. “Won’t you come inside? Shut the door, please, and tell me what’s happened,” He said, waving in the direction of the bed. I took a small step closer to the bed, but the movement irritated my legs, causing me to hiss and squeeze my eyes shut. All of the passed excitement had made me skittish and sensitive and, frankly, more susceptible to pain. 

“I-I…” 

“Well stand if you must, I shan’t force you,” he interrupted, sensing my discomfort, “If you could close the door, though, if you don’t mind. It’ll keep the conversations we have more confidential.” I nodded and closed the door quietly, not locking it in case I needed to get away. “Now,” he began, “There are two things I’d like to speak to you about: what happened with Alois, and what happened on our walk here?” He gave me a strict look, but it wasn’t stern. He wasn’t happy with me, but he wasn’t angry, he wanted to understand. I rubbed my left arm, crossing the other over my stomach, and looked at the floor. 

“I was asleep and I… I knew something was happening but I couldn’t shake off the drowsiness. Once I had some clarity, he was…” A sob rolled itself into a ball and lodged itself deep into my throat, silencing me. I felt hot, embarrassed, and ashamed. This isn’t the first time someone’s tried to put their hands on me, and I know it won’t be the last. My fingers grazed my brand through my shirt. The ball of hurt and despair pushed down further into my esophagus. I tried to swallow it, but the pressure and exertion pushed large, exaggerated tears from my eyes and down my face.

“Come here,” Sebastian said as more of a suggestion than a command. He reseated himself on the bed, patting the space next to him. I’m sure he meant to sit beside me, but I took this as an invitation to cling to him for comfort. I brought my knees up to my chest, positioning myself to sit beside him with my legs forming a bridge over his lap. I knew he could clearly see all the scratches and scars I had, but I didn’t care. I pulled him closer as I wept quietly into his chest, grabbing handfuls of his shirt and squeezing. 

Sebastian was taken aback by my behaviour. Even though his only experiences with me were breakdown after breakdown, he could tell that I wasn’t one for dramatic showings of emotion. I couldn’t stop sobbing. I’m no stranger to feeling absolutely hopeless, but this was different. I’m utterly alone, and at the mercy of my conscience. If Alois is still alive, I’m doomed to be stuck with him again. He’ll be less than happy with me, which doesn’t bode well. If he’s dead, I’ll be doomed to an eternity in this mad house. I’ll likely be left in a room, alone, left with my abusive conscience.He’s _stronger_ than me. I can’t fight him off. I’m a slave to my own mind, and I can’t do anything about it. All of this despairing knowledge pressed heavily into me, weighing me down into Sebastian’s embrace. I don’t just _feel_ hopeless, I _am_ hopeless. 

“Mmm, now’s our chance, darling.” Grell purred, very much enjoying the comforting warmth I was receiving. 

“Please..,” I begged weakly, “just leave me alone.” Sebastian made a confused sound, unaware of Grell’s presence, and probably thinking I was talking to him. I tightened my grip on his shirt, hoping he’d realize who I was actually speaking to. He placed a hand over mine where it clung to his left shoulder. It was like he was trying to protect me, save me from my own conscience. He flashed me an understanding, lopsided smile, like a smirk but with no mischief or malintent, just honesty and compassion. 

“Well, isn’t this romantic~” Grell sighed, experiencing the fluff in my lungs and the butterflies in my belly as though it were himself sitting here, “it’s about time we kissed!” Grell clapped his hands, applauding his own heinously inappropriate idea. “Wouldn’t you agree, Bassy?” 

I cringed at the awful petname Grell had came up with, “No, and I shan’t hear that god awful name again, or I might have to go end my life.” 

“Oh don’t be so dramatic! Besides, it’s not _your_ nickname, is it? Gosh, cheeky aren’t you.” Grell pouted. 

“Always.” I went from despondent to grumpy faster than a teenager can switch tabs when their parents, unexpectedly, come into their room. Sebastian chuckled to himself, somehow finding this whole conversation hilarious. 

“Care to share?” he asked, the same lopsided smile on his face. Likely under Grell’s influence, I couldn’t help but notice how good looking he is. He was pale, but not sickly. His dark hair was thick and long, but not unkempt. And his eyes seemed just barely red, just enough to notice but not enough to be certain. I found myself looking into them from different angles just to prove their redness. “See something you like?” Sebastian joked lightly, I realized just how childishly curious I was being. I shook my head and stared at my knees. 

“Kiss him, boy! I want to know what he tastes like for my lonely nights alone” Grell purred, I felt my tear-stained cheeks heat up again. 

“That’s atrocious, no, end of story, period, goodbye.” I whined, convincing no one that I meant what I said. I hoped that by staying silent from here on, they’d forget all about it. 

“Hey, hey Ciel,” Grell whispered. I made a small sound of acknowledgement while Sebastian watched curiously. Suddenly, Grells face was inches away from mine, “Heyyy, you two should kisssss~~!!!” I jumped quite violently, burrowing further into Sebastian, possibly knocking the wind from his lungs. 

“Aaah!” I yelped, very surprised, and soon, even more embarrassed. “God…. damn it, don’t do that ever again.” I grumbled, Grell just looking at Sebastian’s face, perfectly content. Sebastian laughed quietly, regaining his breath quickly. 

“Good evening, Grell,” he greeted, “If you could refrain from surprising my little friend, that would be much appreciated” he smiled warmly in the general direction my eyes were facing, the smile so wide it made his eyes close. Grell squealed, fangirling loudly all about the room, commenting about Sebastian and his this-and-that. My face is red, my brow is furrowed, my arms are crossed. In other words: 

I’m horrendously embarrassed. 

“Kiss him!” Grell yelled, excitedly.

“No.” I grumped. Sebastian just smiled at my humiliation, feeling sorry but also enjoying it. 

“Do it!!!!!!!”

“No, shan’t”

“What are you ‘no-ing’ about? I’m curious.” Sebastian chimed in at the absolute worst time.

“Uh, n-nothing,” I stuttered, his voice catching me off guard. I cursed myself for that. 

“See! he totally wants us to kiss him! Just look at his beautiful face! It was crafted by Gods, how could you _not_ indulge in that!” Grel pranced about the room, arguing with me as he went. I shook my head. “Kiss him, or I’ll bring Alois Trancy back to life.” he deadpanned, looking like a cross twelve year old girl. I froze. Could he do that? What would happen if he did? Would Trancy have a reaper too, then? No. I can’t let this happen. 

“S-Sebastian, I…” I sat up to face him, but upon meeting a deep set of reddish eyes, I had to look away, hoping he didn’t see me blush like a girl. I didn’t say ‘schoolgirl’ because I’m only thirteen, I don’t have the seniority. 

“Yes, how can I be of service?” his voice was deep and sure, unperturbed and level. His confidence made me feel weaker as my embarrassment swelled in my chest. I don’t want to do this. 

“My… my conscience wants us to… so he…” Ugh, I was so disappointed in my lack of stoicism. I was exhausted, hurting, still a bit sad, and too young for this, have some mercy. As I struggled, deep in my thoughts, Sebastian leaned in close to me, keeping his words between us. 

“I can tell, Ciel. I can tell your conscience wants you to do something you’re not entirely comfortable with. If it’s something quick that will sate him, I’m in, provided it’s nothing crazy. I can teach you to combat your fears, but perhaps, given the time, complying might be the best course of action. The choice is entirely yours, nonetheless” He knew. He could read it all over my sad, easily bothered face. But I’d have to find time to be upset about it later. 

Grell sat on the foot of the bed, anxious to know what he’d said. I looked over to him, scanning over his expressions and body language. Grell seemed excited, in a good way, which means he won’t hurt me...hopefully. I looked up at Sebastian, who gave me an encouraging smile, probably expecting me to say something to Grell, or something along those lines. But I turned towards him, feeling nervous. Sebastian made a confused face. 

“Go on, go on!” Grell chanted, as if he were watching a suspenseful scene in a movie. I whined to myself before closing the space between Sebastian and I. His lips were a lot closer that I’d thought, and a lot warmer and softer. I surprised him, as well as myself, and it was over in a heartbeat. 

“No, No, No!!!” Grell fell over onto his back, on the floor, disappointed and a little peeved. I cringed, not looking forward to what Sebastian had to say. I rolled my eyes up to his, briefly taking in his torso. He had a surprised face, this was inevitable, but he wasn’t...shocked. He wasn’t upset, or at least he didn’t seem to be. I looked back downward, ashamed. Before too long he spoke softly and reassuringly. 

“Was that your first kiss?” he asked calmly and so softly I almost didn’t hear him over Grell’s caterwauling. 

“E-Essentially…” I said slowly, not daring to look at his face. Earlier today, Alois had kissed me, or shoved his tongue down my throat as it were. _That_ had been my first kiss? _That?_ I sagged my shoulders, quickly becoming silently inconsolable. Occasionally, I’d react to the stronger words of upset Grell threw at me. 

“And Grell expected too much of you?” he asked, visualizing the havoc without seeing it. I nodded, wringing my hands. “If you don’t mind, I think I know what to do” he said, lifting my chin with the tips of his fingers, forcing me to look at him. I’d expected him to be angry, to feel violated, upset that some sociopathic thirteen year old boy (who’d just possibly murdered someone) had just kissed him, or tried to but didn’t know how. But he wasn’t. His gaze was gentle and understanding, like he knew how much courage (and threatening) it took for me to do that. He seemed to be able to read my mind and know how sorry I was, and how embarrassed I felt. 

“Close your eyes” he said quietly, I barely noticed Grell poke his head up to watch as I closed my eyes without a second guess. I felt hair brush my cheeks; making me tense. I felt my lips being taken up by his and I understood why he’d asked me to close my eyes. I could _feel_ what kisses were _supposed_ to feel like, and I would’ve missed it if I’d been looking. He was calculated, but not thought out. It felt effortless, this kiss. Warmth pooled in the dark, rotting cavern where my heart used to be. I understood. I understood everything there is to understand in that brief moment. Then it was over. 

His hand came up to rest on my cheek. I, eye still closed, could only sit there, frozen in a content bliss where there was no fire. There was no sadness. There was no eyepatch… No eyepatch… Where’s my eyepatch!?

Instantly, my hand shot up to cover my deformity from Sebastian. I pawed around looking desperately for my eyepatch. There was nothing in the socket. Nothing at all. I must’ve looked like a horror movie character, or a murder victim. What a good way to destroy this moment. 

Sebastian still held on to my face, remaining calm even through my frantic search for my eyepatch. He found it, stuck to my shirt. I sighed, feeling embarrassed yet again. He smiled that lopsided smile that I’m starting to believe is just for me. How could he not mind? Was he just nice enough to not mention it? I tied my eyepatch back on, feeling sad that I didn’t get to secretly enjoy my second, and very successful, attempt at my first kiss, but too embarrassed to ask for another. But this man, as though he’d read my mind, pulled me close and gave me another brief, chaste kiss. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” Sebastian inquired, hoping he didn’t just force me into doing something I wasn’t comfortable with. 

“I…” I didn’t know what I was thinking, I thought of everything at once, “I’m sorry if I scared you, I thought I tied it tight enough…” I ran my fingertips over my eyepatch. 

“Don’t worry, Ciel, accidents happen,” he smiled, “was that what you were looking for?” 

“Wha..?” I didn’t quite understand.

“How was _that_ kiss?” 

“Oh, it was okay,” I said softly. Sebastian laughed to himself, finding my sudden shyness very charming. 

“And how is Grell?” he asked. Grell… I now realized how quiet the room was, there was no redhead man chattering away in my ears. I looked about the room, listening intently, hoping to locate him quickly. I couldn’t see him anywhere. Starting to get anxious, I peeked under the bed, under the desk, behind the door.

“Where’ve you gone off to?” I called to the air. 

“Wait here,” Sebastian said with a sleepy smile. He stood from the bed, ruffled my hair, and stepped out into the hallway, “I won’t be long.” He disappeared into the dark, leaving me confused and a little nervous. Where’s Grell? After circling the small room twice more, I gave up and sat quietly on the bed, waiting for Sebastian to return. I was starting to feel bad for making him stay awake this long. God know’s what time it is. I can tell he’s exhausted, but it’s too late to do anything about it. 

I idly picked at a loose thread in my shirt, feeling glum and deep in thought. I barely noticed Sebastian return with his hands full. He placed something on his desk; the sound startled me. It was a mug? A mug of something hot. I stared at the mug on his desk, puzzled. Sebastian knelt down before me, his right hand bringing mine up to grasp the second mug he had. 

“W-What’s this?” I asked. I assumed it was tea, but I wanted to be sure. It smelled sweet, calming me before I’d even tasted it. 

“Chamomile,” Sebastian answered with that lopsided smile, his eyes weighted with exhaustion, “It’ll help you sleep. We’ll talk business in the morning. In the meantime, I’d be delighted to let you stay in here with me.” 

“Seb...Sebastian you don’t have to… it’s okay” I stammered.

“I insist, you actually stand a chance at getting some sleep with me than in your room after all.” he said, squeezing my hands which now held the mug of chamomile tea. I took it from him, curious about the taste. 

“You’re sure it’s no trouble?” I asked, now fully engrossed in this cup of tea. I took an experimental sip, instantly deciding that this could very well be the best cup of tea I’ve ever had. I could feel the heat and chamomile soothing the ache in my muscles, relaxing me so completely I thought I could sleep forever. 

“It’s no trouble at all, Ciel, just don’t tell Claude,” there was a laugh in his voice, shaking his vocal chords, yet I could tell he was serious. This is, after all, quite unprofessional. He climbed into the bed beside me, obviously ready for sleep. I awkwardly sat at the foot of the bed, only moving when he gestures for me to take the spot beside him. I didn’t expect him to want to be so close, I didn’t expect for _me_ to want to be so close. But who was I to refuse such kindness? 

“Try to sleep, alright?” Sebastian asked, his voice lowered considerably; he must be drained. I nodded, not finding a better way to respond. “Goodnight Ciel,” he said in a voice just above a whisper. 

“Thank you, Sebastian.” I said, hoping I’ve conveyed how grateful I am for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> follow my tumblr? mylifeisaverageish.tumblr.com


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the next few chapters will be a little short, but you'll see why!

I slept. For the first time in years, and without heavy doses of medication, I slept peacefully in the arms of another. And I mean flush against him, playing little spoon for the first time in my life. I understood the underlying connotations that came with listening to his breathing and feeling his heartbeat, but I’d never known what it felt like, to be a part of someone else, at least for a short while. I knew this was a one time thing and everything would go back to being morbid and complicated by morning. But until then, I savored this warmth, this warmth I can only classify as calm happiness. 

I wondered what a man like this had been through to make him pursue a career in wrangling madmen and putting them back into their cages. He had the face to sell any useless product, the charm to win any election, and the wit to con even the smartest of people out of house and home. But his kindness was unmatched by any of these traits. Maybe that’s why he chose this vocation. He had the ability to make the nation’s disappointments and dirty secrets feel like real people again. He asked how our days went, what our favourite songs are, if we liked cats or dogs. He could be like Claude, not caring about our feelings at all and not afraid to show it, but he chose the route of compassion. 

I was disappointed when I was shaken awake by Hannah. I sat up slowly, rubbing my eye with the back of my hand. 

“Sorry to have woken you, I know how hard it is for you to sleep,” she apologized, brushing her long, periwinkle hair from her eyes as she looked down at me with a sad smile, “Breakfast starts in ten minutes, you can’t be late. But you were still sleeping, and I didn’t want you to get in trouble, so I woke you.” I nodded, only half-listening to her. Had it been a dream? How much of it had been, if so? Is Alois Trancy dead? Did I spend the night in Sebastian’s room? How did I end up here? I covertly licked my lips, tasting sugar and chamomile. It had to be real, my overactive imagination wasn’t _that_ powerful, was it? _And where is Grell?_

“Thank you very much, Hannah, I appreciate you looking out for me,” I gave her an approving smile. She smiled back, happy she didn’t anger me in any way. 

“I’ll wait for you in the corridor to take you to the dining hall, Ciel” and with that, she waved and left the room, perhaps for me to change. I chose a shirt and a pair of shorts shorter than what I’m used to, hoping they won’t agitate my healing scratches. I removed my eyepatch, getting it out of the way, before I changed shirts. I pawed about for it afterwards, trying to locate it and return it to its previous position, to brush against a piece of paper on my nightstand. I retired my eyepatch, then took up the paper. 

_Ciel,_

_My deepest apologies for returning you to your room without your permission.  
It was time for my day to begin, but not time for yours, so I brought you back, hoping you’d continue to sleep. It’ll be easier for you to find your way around the house this way. Please come to my office at 10am for our session. _

_Thank you for your company,_

_Michaelis_

It _was_ real. It had all happened, both the good and the bad. I smiled brightly, relieved that it hadn’t been an elaborate, vivid dream. I tucked the note into my pocket, not wanting to lose it, then left the room. 

I followed Hannah through the house and into a large dining room. There were 40 people, not including staff, in various stages of breakfast. Not a large number of patients at all, especially for the size of this place. I didn’t see Alois Trancy. 

“Hannah,” I asked, “Do you see Trancy anywhere?” She looked around, shrugging her shoulders and shaking her head. Perfect. Now none of us have to deal with that slut ever again. We chose a less populated corner of the dining hall, sitting side by side and chatting idly. I guessed this was what having a friend was like. 

“How did you make your hair periwinkle?” I asked, curiously.

“How did you makes _yours_ blue?” she countered. She smirked at me. I liked this girl more and more, her playful jabs made me feel like a real person. I felt like anyone else, happily bickering with my new friend. I heard a hardy laugh approach Hannah and I. 

“Good morning, Tanaka” greeted Hannah, smiling sweetly at him. He shot us happy glances, approving of our new friendship. He handed me a note, smiling and laughing before leaving us. “What’s that you’ve got?” Hannah asked, noticing the small note Tanaka had handed to me. I opened it up for the both of us to read. 

**Ciel Phantomhive,**

**Please come see me in my office as soon as possible.**

**Faustus**


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alois Trancy's Point Of View

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey kids! here's a small twist to spice things up. now, i don't like claude, so he's not a very nice guy in my stories. warnings: sexual tension, language, emotional abuse.
> 
> clarifications:
> 
> my story takes place in Juniper, England in, i guess, present day, more current is what i mean. claude decided to keep the victorian theme, just because it's aesthetically pleasing. everyone know's it's present day.

“The master would like for you to go see him, Alois!” Meirin, the enthusiastically klutzy nurse, chirped happily. 

“Thank you, Meirin, I’m on my way,” I replied, boredom and indifference oozing from every pore of my being. She smiled then skittered off. I stepped off of my bed, making no sound as I made my way to the mirror on the opposite side of the room. I scanned my reflection for any flaws. As usual, my skin is pale and perfect. Well, perfect minus the long, dark, finger-shaped bruises around my neck. Oh, well, nothing I can do about it but plan my revenge. I mean, honestly, was all of that necessary?

Anyway, I had to cut a pair of shorts even shorter, which I know is more than a little douchey, but they show off my ass so much better this way, so I really don’t care. Besides, I don’t usually need clothes anyway, they always wind up in a pile on the floor. Nor do I ever do my hair, it’s thin and fair and will be mussed anyway, styling it isn’t worth the effort.

Content with my overall sexiness, I smirked at my reflection then turned and exited the room. The rug beneath my feet was feather soft to me. It tickled my oversensitive skin, the slight breeze in the air sent a visible shiver down my spine. I stopped, exhaling a shaky breath and getting used to my environment. I forgot I needed to drag my feet into the rug, any normal movement is too soft, too sweet, too arousing. I wanted to have some sense for Claude, he gets angry if my five minute walk to his office already has me panting and blushing up a storm. I can’t help it, everything gets to me. It’s a blessing and a curse. 

I started walking again, pushing my heels into the rug until they burned. Even then, the burning left a pleasant warmth in the pit of my stomach, but what can you do. I quickly arrived outside Claude’s office. The door was closed, as he liked it. I knocked twice. 

“Who is it?” a deep voice questioned from behind the door. I shivered, letting out another shaky breath. God, that voice. 

“It’s me, Alois, Sir,” I purred, “I’m here for my treatment.” I pressed my chest up to the door, running my fingers down its surface. The dark wood felt cold against my chest, protected only by the thinnest of shirts. I trembled, the feeling of cold and fabric rubbing against my skin making me whine softly. 

Suddenly the door swung open, catching me off guard. I fell to the floor, slamming my right hip into the ground. Claude stood overhead, looking down at me. 

“Can’t control yourself, can you.” he didn’t ask, it was more of a statement. I scrambled to stand, not looking him in the eye. 

“I’m sorry, Sir, I was just--”

“I didn’t tell you you could speak, Alois.” My eyes shot up to his involuntarily. He’s never said anything like that to me. My heart ached but more heat seeped into my belly the more he stared at me. He took a step back, gesturing to his desk, a large beautiful piece. I’m _very_ familiar with that desk, and every other flat surface in this room. “Come sit, I have a new assignment for you.” I immediately made for the desk, sitting down and crossing my ankles, waiting for further instruction. Claude looked through me, indifferent. I watched him, praying for him to soften and smile at me like he always did when we were alone. He’s usually loving and gentle, but today he’s hard and stoic. It hurt… more than I’d like to admit. I sat as still as I could, waiting for him to speak.

“Today, you aren’t to move or react at all. Simply trust that you will get what you need.” Claude said sternly, “You won’t speak unless spoken to. And when you are spoken to, you will reply with composure, do you understand?” his hands ghosted over my thighs, quickly going a light pink. I blushed brightly, breathing hard. 

“Y-Yes-s, Sir,” I stuttered, Claude’s eyes narrowed. I gasped and tried again, “Yes, Sir. I’ll do good.” My eyes widened, I didn’t mean to say that last part. Claude noticed I’d spoken out of turn, but let this one slide. 

He brushed my hair from my eyes, barely touching my skin. I gritted my teeth, determined to make him proud. He drew nearer, examining my features. He brought a hand over my mouth, painfully squeezing my cheeks together. I tensed, forcing a yelp back down my throat. He scrutinized my quickly reddening cheeks, seeming like he was debating whether or not I was worth his time. He gave a final squeeze before releasing me. Before I could relax, he pressed his lips to mine, barely making contact. I panted heavily, turning redder and redder. I worked to maintain my composure that Claude was quickly destroying. 

“Ahh--” I gasped as his fingertips pushed underneath my shirt, slowly sweeping over my skin. He quickly removed himself from me completely. 

“Well,” he said, “I see your self-control is particularly lacking today.” He crossed behind me, sitting at his desk and getting back to work. “Three words or less, how do you feel.” 

“P-Please, f-fuck me, Claude,” I whined, unable to stop myself from trembling. He stood slowly, looking down at me with the same hard stare. He stayed like that, staring down at me. I felt so useless, I couldn’t think about anything but those golden eyes, how they burned and seethed with some unknown passionate intention. How I yearned for those eyes, just to watch them transition from emotion to emotion, emotions no one’s ever seen him exhibit but me. I’m his pet after all, I’m special to him, or at least that’s what he lets on. 

He leaned in, closing his eyes and bringing a hand up to my burning cheek. I stiffened, determined not to move in the slightest, though my entire body ached to melt right into him. I was certain, no, more than certain that he was going to kiss me, and I needed this kiss. More than oxygen. But just as my eyes slipped shut, I felt a gloved hand wrap around my throat. He lifted me off the desk to dangle two feet off the ground. I stared, wide eyed, frantically clawing at his wrist. I tried to ignore the sickening feeling of deja vu sinking into the pit of my stomach. 

“There are three things you did wrong, Alois,” Claude said calmly, “Number one; ‘please fuck me claude’ makes a total of four words, not three.” He squeezed impossibly tighter, my weight making the constriction even more painful. “Number two; I’ve told you time and time again, never to address me by my name. We are not on the same level.” I tried to loosen his grip, begging for mercy, “And finally; you’ve violated our guest.” He released my throat, dropping me, watching me crumble to the floor in a coughing, sputtering mess. 

“I’m sorry, Sir…” I whispered, not daring to look up, afraid of what expression he may have. He laughed, a dark, steely edge to his voice. 

“No, Alois, you’re not. But you will be. You’re cut off. I’ve indulged you for the last time.” I snapped my eyes up in disbelief. 

“N-No… Please--”

“Until Ciel Phantomhive forgives you, you’ll receive no sexual release. If I have to hang you by your thumbs for the rest of your life, you will feel no pleasure until that boy sees fit. Do you understand.” 

“Please… Give me another chance…” I could barely speak. But, even if I could, what would I even say? Claude. _My_ Claude… He wasn’t on my side. He was choosing someone else… 

“What were you thinking…” He said, low and disappointed. I could feel hot, overwhelmed tears push past my lashes, doing nothing to cool my inflamed cheeks. 

“I just want you to love me.” I whispered into the floor. I felt him walk closer to me. He pulled me up into a standing position.

“I have another appointment. Until you gain Phantomhive’s forgiveness, our sessions are over.” And just like that, like some stray dog, he cast me out of his office, onto the floor. I sniffed, rubbing my eyes. I stood up on wobbly legs, perfectly ready to run to my room and never come out again, when I noticed someone standing not too far from me. _Him._

He looked shocked, standing still, wide eyed like a deer in headlights. He was beautiful in a tragic way. His perfect face, maimed and masked by an eyepatch. His lips, kissed without consent. His legs, marred by his own hand. So sad, but endearingly so. How could I? How could I even think about violating something so beautiful? 

“I’m so sorry, Ciel…” I whispered. He sent me a knowing look as I ran past him, through the corridor and away from existence.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! i cant tell you how happy it makes me to see how much yous like this story, thank you so much for your support!

I padded quietly through the hall, wondering what Claude may want with me. It was probably to discuss punishment for killing his favourite, or to call London so they can take down my confession. Still, I wasn’t excited to meet Claude alone. Something in my gut told me he isn’t the friendly sort and I have no patience for that type of person. 

I wandered around, fairly certain I knew where I was, although being lost was a definite possibility. I felt... cheerful, not all the way to happy, but pretty upbeat for the most part. I didn’t think anything would change that until I heard an angry voice growling quite menacingly behind a door up ahead. I put my guard up, slowly stepping closer. I was about five feet away when Alois Trancy came tumbling out, landing on his face. I couldn’t believe my eyes. _He was alive!_ I felt furious enough to try to kill him again, and almost attempted to, but I noticed the dark, angry, violent bruises wrapped around his neck. They were definitely hand-shaped, but they weren’t _my_ hands. My hands are small and unintimidating, the marks on his neck were large and threatening. Just looking at them unnerved me, sending a cold chill down my spine. 

_Did I do that?_

I looked down at my hands in shock. I hate him, I wish he’d drop dead before me right now, but I was so afraid. I was becoming a monster; a cold, unfeeling, unmerciful monster. 

“I’m so sorry, Ciel…” he whispered, before running off. I didn’t realize until after he’d gone that he had been very very distraught coming out of that room. I felt a bit sick, hoping that I didn’t remember correctly, hoping this wasn’t Claude’s office. 

“Come in, I don’t have all day.” I heard the same angered voice call out to be from behind the door. I shrank into myself, quietly stepping toward the door. I pulled it open, more and more of the room coming into view. “Please have a seat,” Claude ordered, not looking up from what he was doing. I stood in the doorway, seeing the chair before his desk but making to moves toward it, not until I had a basic idea of where this was going. He sighed impatiently, looking up from his work and resting his chin on his hand. “Come along, I don’t bite.” he said monotonously, nonthreatening, but not enormously friendly. I took my seat, cautiously watching his every move, which wasn’t much to look at. He waited for me to situate myself before speaking more formally. 

“Firstly, I wanted you to be present when I call Detective Fisher and record your confession. I also wanted to go over possible treatment plans, as well.” He opened a cabinet on his side of the desk, retrieving yet another file with my name on it. “Secondly, I wanted to hear your thoughts on your situation to see if you’re adjusting.” I rolled my eyes, how I hated the idea of adjusting. 

“I cope, I don’t adjust.” I said, he barely suppressed a glare, wanting so badly to put me in my place. But he didn’t. Why? I’ll likely never know. 

“Thirdly,” he began again, looking back down at my file, “I want your side of the story, what happened between you and Alois Trancy.” 

“Sounds reasonable…” I agreed, knowing I’d be as brief as possible. I wanted to get back to Hannah. I liked feeling like a normal kid, and not being antagonized every second of the day. 

“Sir?” I began, wanting to sate my curiosity, “why don’t you have any sort of technology, aside from the phones of course, wouldn’t that make it harder to communicate, or advertise?” Claude’s expression softened into a slight smile. 

“I prefer the nostalgia of Victorian business. It helps me stay organized,” he started, punching in Fisher’s phone number and preparing for the conference call, “also, within these walls, you may call me Claude” he smiled again, his demeanor completely turned. I nodded dumbly, not really knowing what to say about this. The ring of the phone was the only sound as we waited for Fisher to pick up the other end of the call. 

“Fisher,” he stated, sounding just as official and no-nonsense as he had before. 

“Good morning, detective. It’s Faustus here with young Mr. Phantomhive.” 

“Morning, Fisher,” I piped up, voicing my presence. The three of us chatted for a while, exchanging the usual pleasantries. I briefly regaled the two men on my making a new friend, Fisher said he was proud of my progress and happy for me. I felt pride swell up in my chest. I’d never had anyone say they were proud of me in a long time. 

“Alright, back to business,” Claude digressed, bringing us all back on task, “Ciel, we need your statement, as well as a brief play-by-play, then I’ll give mine.” 

“Okay,” I took a breath, collecting my thoughts, “I, Ceil Phantomhive, murdered my aunt, Angelina, in cold blood.” I paused, Claude watched me with that unreadable look, the one that reminded me of possessiveness, “My conscience had left me a chainsaw under my bed. Using this, I came into her room and disemboweled her. I believe it was around 3am, or so. Shortly after, I returned to my room with the chainsaw, and fell asleep for the first time in weeks.” 

I’m aware that I ruined my life. I know that I crushed all my potential. But I don’t care. I may be in a good mood but that doesn’t change anything. I still feel hollow, like I don’t belong, like I’ll never feel normal emotions ever again. I just wanted my revenge, my lasting mark on this society. Then I’ll be more than happy to die and be reunited with my parents. But until I take my final breaths, I’ll continue exacting my revenge and not feeling anything while I do so. 

“Okay, my turn,” Claude mused, “Fisher, based on his psychiatric analysis as well as previous events that have taken place since his arrival, I do not think he’s competent to stand trial. Saying this, I believe he should stay at this facility until the age of 21, 18 with exceptional behavior.” 

I expected this. Honestly, staying in an insane asylum is probably better than going to prison. I don’t even want to imagine what the inmates would do to me. It seems like I’d gotten lucky, being sent here. Claude and Fisher finished up the business end of things rather quickly once they had my confession. 

“Send my regards to Langsbury,” I asked Fisher. 

“Of course, take care, Ciel.” Claude hung up the phone before looking over to me. On the outside, to the untrained eye, he looked very thoughtful. But I knew, I could tell, something was going on behind his eyes. The seemingly indifferent expression he so often wore was so subtly something else, something more that I couldn’t quite fathom. I took another leap of faith.

"Is something wrong, Sir…” I probed, maybe he’d notice and stop looking at me in this way. He just rested his cheek in his hands, propped up on the desk and staring at me. 

“Claude,” he corrected. 

“I don’t know if you noticed, but I think you might’ve just replaced Alois as his new favourite,” After hours of being missing, after I’d gotten a bit used to being my own person, Grell reappeared, as if he’d never been gone. 

“It can’t be…” I gaped, completely thrown for a loop. “Where the fuck have you been?” I growled, “You’ve been silent for hours and I like you like that, get gone and stay gone, you bloody parasite!”

“Excuse me!” Grell countered, taken aback by the harshness of my words, “Remember who you’re talking to when you shout your insults, Ciel Phantomhive. You life is in my hands.” 

“Well, take it!” I wailed, barely holding back angry tears, “That’s the whole fucking goal, is it not? To murder my enemies then march off to hell myself? If you’re so bold, do it, take my life, it’s not worth living, anyway.” 

All was silent, save for my emotional huffing and puffing. Claude observed, making detailed mental notes he’d have to jot down later. I roughly rubbed my eye, making it redden even faster. Rage overwhelmed me, making me convulse in my chair. Adrenaline surged through my veins, making my deepest of scratches bleed again. To sum it up, I must’ve looked exactly the same a few nights ago, while killing my aunt. I must’ve had the same fire in my lungs when I strangled another patient for touching me last night. I’ve fallen into a state of destruction, in which I’d love to take another stab at Trancy’s life, just to let off some steam. And I don’t mean this figuratively. 

“Are you finished?” Claude asked, breaking the silence, completely unfazed. 

I nodded, “Do forgive me, Sir. I was caught off guard,” I calmed down gradually, rage turning into grumpiness. Claude’s slight smile was joined with an expectant gaze, “Claude,” I corrected myself, not sure if this first-name-basis was an honour or a warning sign. 

“Tell you what,” he said, “it’s nearly 10am, you’re scheduled for a session with Michaelis soon. Why don’t you stop by sometime after lunch and we can finish up our work here?” He smiled understandingly, figuring out that some time with my psychologist would be ideal after this outburst. Part of me had expected him to pry or become offended by my impulsive, vulgar language. I was almost uncomfortable with how wrong I was about him. He was, at least to me, a decent person. 

“Thank you, Claude,” I said, feeling the need to thank him for his understanding. Not many people take the time to understand. He smiled again. 

“Not at all. Surely you know where you’re going, just across the hall,” he motioned toward the door, meaning the other side of the corridor, “If you need anything, anything at all, Ciel, you know where to find me.” 

So many unspoken meanings flashed through my mind, confusing me even more. Nevertheless, I made my way out of the chair and out the door. I closed it behind me, gathering that Claude was a ‘closed door’ kind of man, and I was off, off to see Sebastian for the first time since last night.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey hey hey, it's mylifeisaverage! ((if anyone gets that reference, you get a gold star)) here's another quick chapter for yous!

I half rushed across the hall, my characteristic composure slipping quickly into frantic confusion. I couldn’t believe Alois was alive; I was certain I’d killed him. I couldn’t believe I’d _replaced_ him as Claude’s favourite, and what did that mean? Based totally on deduction, I think it means being _his_ boy. Which would mean that I couldn’t keep seeing Sebastian. He’d be allowed to forget about me, and something about that reality scares me. I trust him. _I Trust Him._ I haven’t trusted anyone in years. The thought of being abandoned by someone I trust… 

I pounded thrice on the door, seeing that Sebastian is also a ‘closed door’ kind of man. 

“Let me in!” I cried into the door, not entirely under my own control but aware enough not to draw Claude’s attention. The door opened, a sleepy looking Sebastian behind it, looking a bit confused. I didn’t care, I longed for familiarity like a child longs for it’s mother. I wrapped my arms around him, smushing myself deep into his sternum, barely noticing the possibility that the buttons on his jacket could leave impressions on my face. He hesitated for a moment before returning my embrace. I felt relieved, reassured that our bond was not one-sided. Either that, or he was an amazingly convincing actor. 

He pulled me into the room, keeping a hand around my shoulder, “What’s happened?” 

“I’m sorry,” I started, “I was across the hall giving my confession when Claude started acting very oddly warm towards me, then Grell cropped up after being gone for hours, and I was so used to not hearing him, but, anyway, I don’t know what any of this means. Alois is alive. Grell think’s I might’ve replaced him in being Claude’s favourite but I don’t know if that’s bad or not, I just want to stay with you,” I rambled, embarrassingly unintelligible. We stood awkwardly in the corner of the room, I most likely ruining whatever expensive, hard-to-find jacket he’s wearing today. 

“Yes, Alois is still alive, and thankfully too. You’d’ve been in a lot of trouble had he not survived,” he said, “Actually, depending on how our session goes, I’d like to bring him in for the last ten minutes or so.” I tightened my grip on the lapel of his jacket.

“If you think it’s necessary… I want as much distance between us as possible,” Now, don’t be deceived, I’m normally never this agreeable. There was something about how Sebastian accommodated me, it made me want to do what he asks, and he was never unreasonable. He broke our embrace to pull out a stool hidden under his desk. 

“I figured you might want our meetings to be a bit more personal,” he explained, situating me right beside him instead of across from him, “I also don’t mind you staying in my room if you find it too difficult to stay with Alois, but this will only work if you keep it between us, okay?” 

“Yes! A Thousand Times Yes!” Grell exclaimed loudly, his voice nearly blowing out my eardrums. I groaned, bringing my hand up to squeeze the bridge of my nose, fending off a headache. 

“I’m sorry, I just--” 

“Is it that he speaks too loudly?” he asked, looking concerned. I nodded weakly. “Have you tried ignoring it, rather that deciphering what he’s saying?” 

“I can’t,” I argued stubbornly. I began to tremble ever so slightly with the effort I put into fending him off. I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping to clear my vision. Sebastian appeared beside me, removing my hand and cupping my cheeks. Grell’s voice silenced almost instantly. All my distressed faded away. I grasped his wrists, continuing to stare into his slightly red eyes. 

“Perhaps if you just focus on me, it seems to calm the both of you down,” he said, his lopsided smile returning in full swing. I nodded slowly, understanding what he’d said but too calm to give an envigorated response. “I heard you’ve made a new friend; will you tell me about her?” 

“Hannah?” He nodded. “She’s very sweet. She talks to me like I’m a normal person. She wasn’t repulsed by my missing eye, probably because she’s missing one as well, but it’s nice to feel normal.” Sebastian smiled. I loved how when he smiles the corners of his eyes crinkle. It’s the sign of a genuine smile. Claude doesn’t smile like this. 

“She’s on my case load as well. We had a meeting shortly after she’d met you. She’s very glad to have met someone so accepting of her, you’ve really made her happy,” I couldn’t help but smile myself. I’d made a friend, and she’s glad to have met me. _Me._ I was, to say the least, ecstatic. Sebastian, having not released me yet, ran his thumbs over my skin, smiling back at me. 

“I’d like to take the both of you on an outing soon. There’s a shop in the village that makes glass eyes for those who need them. As you may have guessed, Hannah has nothing below her bandage, similarly to you. It’s much safer and more sanitary for you two to be fitted for new eyes, wouldn’t you think?” 

I hesitated. Good quality glass eyes are amazingly expensive, and the procedure to put them in is very invasive. This is why I haven’t gotten one in all this time. But, on the other hand, frequent socket cleanings were uncomfortable enough to consider accepting such a favour. Hannah needed one, too. Even if I didn’t accept one for myself, I wanted to support her. I can hardly believe Sebastian trusted us in a village full of people. He believed in us, a couple of murderers. He knew every dark detail of our crimes and was still fond of us enough to take us out on a little adventure. 

“Thank you so much, Sebastian,” was all I could say, though I think he understood how much this means to me. He seemed glad that I was allowing him to dote on me; his happiness made me blush the smallest bit. 

“How about I’ll call for you both after lunch. Will you tell Hannah?” I nodded, tightening my grip on his wrists. Suddenly I became very serious, almost sullen. 

“Why are you so good to me, Sebastian, I have nothing to offer you.” His smile disappeared. He looked downward, thoughtfully. After a moment of expectant silence, he replied. 

“I’ve grown quite fond of you,” he said, fixing his gaze on me, “I barely know you, yet can plainly see that you’re brilliant and wildly articulate. You’re grateful for the smallest of kindnesses. You defend what you believe in, sometimes a little too much,” he laughed quietly as he felt my cheeks heat up, “You’re very self aware and I like that very much. I’m very drawn to you, and I’ll do anything in my power to help you and prepare you for the normal, happy life you’ll have in the future.” 

Silence. 

I stared into Sebastian’s eyes, lost in them, lost in his words, lost for my own words. I found myself wanting him closer, much closer. And the readability of his expressions said that he might want me closer as well. 

“It’s 11:20, Sebastian,” a voice stated from the other side of the door, a small, tentative rap completely obliterating the moment. I exhaled, realizing that I’d been holding my breath. Sebastian stood, ruffled my hair, which seemed to be a trend among the people here, and turned to answer the door.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little anger, a little tension, a little hurt, a little comfort, a little sappiness.

“Impeccable timing,” Sebastian said, seeming a little disappointed as well. Alois Trancy stood at the door waiting to be invited in. He peered around Sebastian’s body, gaze locked on me. 

“Ciel..,” he mused, starting towards me. Sebastian stopped him, placing himself between us. 

“If you could take a seat here, young Trancy,” Sebastian said, almost as authoritatively as Claude might’ve been. Alois sat down, never taking his eyes off of me. I stared back, my calmness igniting into anger, just being in his presence made me irritable. 

“Ciel, I’m so--”

“Don’t speak to me. I’m here to verify your accounts, nothing more,” 

“But, please, just listen to me!” Alois balled his hands into fists, begging, like I _just_ told him not to do. I was about ready to pounce when Sebastian took one of my hands, invisible to Alois. 

“Let’s hear him out, Ciel, for record’s sake,” Sebastian suggested, squeezing my hand and calming me down. I nodded, glaring hard at my offender, hoping he felt as uncomfortable as I want him to feel. 

“Well, I…” Alois looked down at his hands, suddenly feeling shy.

“Well? Get on with it,” I crossed my arms and turned my nose up. 

“I didn’t think you were going to wake up, you weren’t supposed to even know about it.” Alois stared at the floor, ashamed. 

“So your plan was to rape me in my sleep.”

“No!” his eyes shot up to mine, “I didn’t want our first time to be when you were asleep but I couldn’t wait. I was painfully bored, and you’re like an angel when you sleep, I couldn’t help myself. I wasn’t really planning on touching you, but you’re so tempting,” He smirked to himself, his cheeks turning pink, “You mewed like a kitten, it was the most adorable thing I’ve ever heard. I even stopped petting you but you got so sad and told me not to stop. How can I deny you, Ciel?” Sebastian cleared his throat, giving Alois a warning look, it was best for him to finish his side of the story quickly, “Besides, I did _ask you_ if you enjoyed it and you didn’t say no, so I--” 

I lunged across the table, catching his neck in my grasp and squeezing him into silence. “That’s your excuse!?” I howled, Sebastian pulled us apart, but it was too late. I was furious. “I was asleep! Sleeping! How low must you be to come on to me, on my first night here, while I was sleeping!? And what in God’s name does ‘our first time’ even mean!? Planning on raping me again, were you?!” I fought against Sebastian, but he held me fast, away from Alois. 

“I wasn’t raping you!” he yelled in defense, “I was _hoping_ you’d like me and it would go from there. There’s no way in hell I’m passing up a chance with you, but I wanted to be… friends…” I stopped my flailing for a moment. 

“Friends. You want to be friends.” I’ve never heard such bullshit in my life.

“Besides, you like what, 11? I wasn’t going to take your virginity or anything, I was just fucking around,” Alois giggled to himself, falsely thinking that I wasn’t upset anymore. My jaw dropped, as well as Sebastian’s. Sebastian let go of me, both of us just standing there. 

“Firstly,” I said quietly, staring blankly, a sudden eerie calm befalling me, “I’m thirteen, Secondly, if I do not give consent, it’s rape. Period.” I paused, gauging the reactions of Sebastian and Alois alike before I continued, “Thirdly, I am innocent to the ways of pleasure, but not to the ways of men. Fourth and lastly, we will never be friends. Ever. Now leave, and stay out of my sight if you value your life.” Alois looked completely shocked, staring at me with wide, blue eyes. 

“You.. you don’t understand, I need you to forgive me. I won’t leave until you forgive me…” he said, terrified of me, but too terrified of what will happen if I don’t forgive him to leave. 

“Won’t you,” I hissed, “Kneel before me and beg for my forgiveness if you're so inclined.” I didn’t expect him to, but he immediately scrambled over to me, embracing my legs. 

“What can I do to make it up to you?” Alois whined, rubbing his face into my thigh, quickly making me very uncomfortable. He hooked his fingertips through the belt loops on my shorts, tugging downward. “I’ll do anything to earn your forgiveness,” he looked up at me, face ablaze, and eyes shining. It seemed like my sarcastic remark had backfired significantly. 

“Alright, that’s quite enough,” Sebastian chimed in, pulling Alois away from me. On the outside, I was irate, but on the inside I was shaking and panicking.

“I’ll make it up to you, Ciel, I promise,” were his parting words before he was pushed out of the door and out of my sight. Once he was gone, the floodgates opened and the tears started. I tried to stop it, rubbing away tears as they came but Sebastian still noticed, coming to my side. 

“I’m okay, I’m fine, I just--” I gasped and sputtered, failing to control myself. Sebastian took a seat at his desk, waving me toward him. I followed, still trying to stop the small sounds of upset escaping my throat. He pulled me up into his lap, holding me close. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, I could hear the worry in his voice. I couldn’t answer. I couldn’t do anything but cry and feel sorry for myself. “Was that true?” he asked, referring to my comment I’d given before throwing Alois out. I nodded into his chest, disturbing my eyepatch. His eyes widened in disbelief. “Oh, Ciel, why didn’t you tell me?” He hugged me tightly, feeling horrible for putting me in this position. I returned the hug, letting his warmth calm me down. 

“Don’t feel bad, it’s not your fault,” I assured him, “I’ve just never told anyone until now.” 

“Should we talk about this?” he asked, making sure I was comfortable instead of pressing on. I cleared my throat, preparing to bare my soul before changing my mind at the last second. 

“Sebastian,” I questioned, he made a noise of acknowledgment, paying close attention, “could we talk about this later on tonight?” I watched the makings of a sarcastic joke light up his eyes before fading away. I breathed a silent sigh of relief, knowing he knew that now wasn’t the time for jokes. 

“Of course, should we reschedule our trip to the village? You look like you could use some rest.”

“No,” I replied quickly, catching Sebastian by surprise, “No, that’s okay. Gives me something to look forward to.” 

“Well, okay then,” he said, flashing me that smile, “Return with Hannah at, let’s say, 1:30? I’ve got some work to do, but don’t let that stop you from coming to me if you need anything, alright?” I nodded, giving a weak smile and rubbing my eye. “Hey,” Sebastian chimed in once more, “You’re going to be alright, okay?” with that, he gave me one last hug before shooing me off. I smiled to myself.

“I’m going to be alright…” I said quietly to myself, and I hurried off to find Hannah.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alois Trancy's point of view

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, this chapter is very rushed and not very well written but oh my gosh am i excited for this. please please tell me what you think!

“God Damn It!” I yelled, slamming the door to my room, “god damn it…” I trudged toward my bed, feeling despair begin to fill my lungs with hot fog, feeling hopelessness condense it into heavy tears. I crossed into the room, looking around at where I was; a mental institution. This is where I’ve ended up. A small bottle on Ciel’s nightstand caught my eye. I stopped, staring at that bottle. I wondered what it was, but at the same time I didn’t care. I marched toward it, taking it from the nightstand. It, like I’d guessed, was a pill bottle, probably Ciel’s sleeping pills. Oh...Ciel hadn’t made his bed this morning… 

I put the bottle down, closing in on the bed. I sighed, imagining him sleeping peacefully. I pulled the sheets taut, re-tucking them into place, along with the blankets. I smoothed and folded and centered until everything was perfect. 

“It’s the least I can do to make it right…” I said to myself before taking the bottle of pills and turning to my side of the room. I fell onto my bed, haphazardly swinging my leg up onto it. I didn’t even bother with the blankets. I placed the bottle on my nightstand, opening the drawer. I pulled out a pen and paper, hastily writing my final sentiments. 

_I have a problem. I just wish I’d realized how bad it was before it was too late. I hurt an angel, and I can’t make it up or take it back. This is the only way to make it right. I’ve never really known what love is, I thought it was what I felt for Claude, physical infatuation. But this was different. Trying to satisfy my own sick urges, I think I fell in love with that angel._

I folded the note into a crisp square, leaving it on my desk. I took the bottle, emptying its contents into my hand. There must’ve had thirty pills. I didn’t bother reading the label, swallowing as many as I could without gagging. I expected to feel sad, but I didn’t. I felt nothing. Nothing at all. In no time, I’d taken all of Ciel’s pills, quickly getting dizzy and lethargic. I laid back, getting as comfortable as possible. My ears rang, my eyelids felt heavy. 

“I think I love you, Ciel…” I whispered, slipping into a black, morbidly peaceful sleep. I barely registered footsteps coming towards me. 

“Well isn’t this something?” a voice, more importantly, a man’s voice, laughed cheerfully. 

“What…?” I questioned, “I’m a little busy, get out.” 

“Busy with what, might I ask?” the man’s voice cackled. 

“...Paying him back,” I whispered, feeling that sadness coming on. 

“If I told you I could help you win over this _him_ you speak of, would you reconsider killing yourself?” 

“Who are you…” I asked with all the strength I had left. 

“Open your eyes.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my gosh i love this chapter! it blows my mind how many kuro fans don't actually know what a faustian contract really is!!! so my watered down explanation is in this chap :) thanks for reading! please check out my other story!

“How exactly are we getting to Juniper?” asked Hannah. I shrugged, giving my best possible answer. We made our way through the house towards Sebastian’s office, pondering what sorts of eyes there will be at the shop in the village. “I think this whole, 1800s thing is starting to get to me. I keep forgetting pizza exists,” she mused. I nodded my agreement. I’ve been pining for a little currency myself. 

“How old are you, if you don’t mind me asking,” I inquired, my curiosity growing too large to bare any longer. Sure, I knew plenty of little -isms of hers, but no hard facts, no fragments of a life story. She smiled, her eyes shining happily. 

“You’re very polite,” she noted, “I’m fifteen.”

“Oh,” I said defeatedly. She must’ve noticed my overthinking things.

“But don’t let that fool you,” she reassured, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and squeezing me to her, “You don’t have to change yourself because you know I’m a little older. Actually, when I first met you, I thought _you_ were older than _me._ ” Her voice broke into chuffed giggles, elated to be invited out of the building. And I smiled, too, though I couldn’t bring myself to laugh with her. I couldn’t laugh for the sake of laughter like she could; I silently wished she’d teach me how. 

We passed several people as we walked through the house, receiving several different greetings. Meirin nearly crashed into us, running with a large stack of china plates. She muttered her apologies before running off, dropping and breaking a few plates on the way. The two of us snickered quietly, closing in on Sebastian’s office. We knocked politely, waiting patiently for him to answer. 

“1:30 and not a second more, I’m very impressed with your timing,” Sebastian praised, “Hello Hannah, how has the day been treating you? I assume Ciel’s told you where we’re going?” 

“Thank you so much, Sebastian. This is so kind of you,” she practically sang, brimming with exuberant friendliness. 

“It’s my pleasure,” he closed the door behind him, “Are we ready? Warm enough? It’s pretty cold out.” I shrugged nonchalantly, contrasting Hannah’s enthusiastic nod. Sebastian passed us, leading us to the main hall. We followed, carrying on about nothing in particular. Sebastian opened the doors, holding them open for Hannah and I to pass through. It was a truly beautiful day. The sun was shining high in the sky, warming the grass and the bare trees, providing comfort in the brisk, December air. The dense forest surrounding the manor hid the horizon, but the three of us knew that the village of Juniper waited for us just south of here. One might think it was March or even April if they didn’t know the temperature, very uncharacteristic for Northumbria, but I was thankful for such a lovely day. I sighed, enjoying the sun on my skin, however weak they rays may have been. 

“Lovely day, isn’t it,” Sebastian commented. Hannah had already started to the car, leaving us on the front steps. 

“Very much, pleasant surprise for North England.” We joined Hannah, piling into the smallish sedan with little to no organization. Hannah had taken the liberty of sitting shotgun, likely to control the music, leaving me to my backseat kingdom of which I was the one and only ruler. It may seem dramatic, but my space is my virtue, though I do occasionally (okay, maybe a bit more often than occasionally) let people in, I love to return to my gloomy, emotional empire of privacy. I watched the trees draw nearer and nearer as we pulled away from the manor, staring out the window in quiet indifference. 

“What do you like?” Hannah’s inquisitive voice broke the silence, calling my attention. 

“Beg your pardon?” I asked, not quite hearing her the first time. 

“Well, I was thinking and I realized that I don’t really know much about you,”

“I second this,” Sebastian jumped in.

“So, tell me. What do you like?” She’d turned to face me, the position straining her spine.

“Beautiful things,” I replied, a challenging edge to the way I phrased this. 

“Examples being?” Hannah pressed curiously.

“Misery is manifold,” I began, repositioning myself to stare out the window again, “The wretchedness of earth is multiform. Overreaching the wide horizon as the rainbow, its hues are as various as the hues of that arch, --as distinct too, yet as intimately blended. Overreaching the wide horizon as the rainbow! How is it that from beauty I have derived a type of unloveliness?”

“From the covenant of peace a simile of sorrow?” Sebastian sent me a look via the rearview mirror, accepting my challenge. I sent him a look of my own, if it’s a game he wants, it’s a game he’ll get. 

“But as, in ethics, evil is a consequence of good, so, in fact, out of joy is sorrow born. Either the memory of past bliss is the anguish of to-day, or the agonies which are have their origin in the ecstasies which might have been.” 

“Berenice,” Sebastian concluded, sensing the end of my recitation. 

“That was beautiful, Ciel, so sad, but so lovely,” Hannah gaped. 

“Edgar Allan Poe has a certain melancholy brilliance that I identify with at the best of times,” I explained, returning my gaze to the window. 

“Where did you learn that?” she asked, Sebastian paying close attention as well.

“My parents used to tell me stories, some of them by Edgar Allan Poe, but they told them to me in words I could understand. When they died, his Tales of the Macabre were all I had left of them.” Hannah fell silent, falling victim to my overwhelming gloom. 

“I can see how Hannah compliments your personality,” Sebastian said, saving us all from drowning in my sorrow, “I can tell you share some of the same characteristics as Egeaus, now that she’s met you, she displays the same liveliness that Berenice had, in that way, the two of you mimic that friendship.” Hannah listened quietly, lacking the context she needed to understand. 

“Thank you for your psychological input, Dr. Michaelis,” I replied a little sassier than I’d intended. Hannah giggled, joined by Sebastian’s quiet laughter. I smiled to myself, adding my own form of happiness. 

“What else can you recite?” Sebastian challenged with playful competitiveness. I sat up, reentering the game we’ve created. 

“Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed,  
The dear repose for limbs with travel tired;  
But then begins a journey in my head,   
To work my mind, when body's work's expired:  
For then my thoughts, from far where I abide   
Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee,   
And keep my drooping eyelids open wide,   
Looking on darkness which the blind do see:   
Save that my soul's imaginary sight   
Presents thy shadow to my sightless view,  
Which, like a jewel hung in ghastly night,   
Makes black night beauteous and her old face new.  
Lo, thus, by day my limbs, by night my mind,  
For thee, and for myself, no quiet find.” 

Sebastian froze, waiting for the title to come to him, when it didn’t he closed his eyes, silently cursing. Hannah’s eyes widened, whooping at Sebastian’s uncharacteristic behaviour. I smirked, watching him struggle to remember the poetry’s title. I looked toward Hannah, raising an eyebrow and silently asking if she had any guesses. She shrugged still giggling at the suspense. Suddenly, a light bulb flicked on in Sebastian’s mind. 

“Sonnet 27, William Shakespeare,” 

“Ugh, damn you, Sebastian,” I rolled my eyes. Hannah clapped and cheered, Sebastian smirking victoriously in my direction through the mirror. We went on like this, reciting poems, passages, and song lyrics, hoping to stump the other two. Hannah dipped into her interests, telling us about her love of fine weaponry and rare instruments. She went on and on about a “glass harmonica,” a particularly strange instrument that sang an eerie song. 

“I don’t know if you two will believe it, but I used to be the biggest punk in existence in my day,” Sebastian admitted, adding to our interest-fest. 

“There’s no way,” Hannah dismissed, “you were a perfect angel, Sebastian, I just know it.” 

“No, really,” Sebastian laughed, reminiscing on his life prior to where he is now, “I was careless. I only sought instant gratification, messily sampling every dish available. I partied, and missed school, and worried my parents to distraction, definitely the problem child,” 

“No kidding,” I added, “What made you change your ways, God?” I pushed out that last word, thick with sarcasm and condescension. 

Sebastian just chuckled, “Alas, I don’t believe in fairytales,” he said, winking at me. “I wanted more for myself. I knew I was smart, clever, personable, so I set of for a higher quality life, something that gave me some purpose.”

“I wish I had a purpose,” I said under my breath, looking back out the window. I could see the town growing closer and closer, just minutes away. 

“You do, you just haven’t lived long enough to find it,” Sebastian replied quietly, hearing the words I’d intended for myself. I blushed ever so softly, feeling embarrassed. Sebastian just laughed. 

“Hmm…” Hannah hummed, her unscathed eye gleaming with suspicious mischief. 

“What?” I snapped, getting a little grumpier as my embarrassment set in. 

“Nothing, nothing,” she giggled, changing the subject quickly, “Sebastian, if you’re so careless, what’s the most reckless thing you’ve ever done?” Sebastian seemed to ponder this for a while, turning down a busier road in the center of Juniper. We stopped at a red light, the first real stop since we embarked on this road trip. 

“Probably, fly to New Jersey without mum’s permission when I was seventeen,” Sebastian said nonchalantly. 

“What!?” Hannah and I both shouted in unison. Sebastian smirked, rounding another corner. 

“Why?!” Hannah gasped as though this was the single most important news she’s ever heard. Come to think of it, it was rather exciting, finding out that Sebastian, the perfect mannered, gentlemanly clinical psychologist, was a troublesome teenager at one point. 

“I wanted to see some band perform in a small, crowded gym. I think they wound up pretty popular, actually.” he answered simply, as if flying across the world for “some band” made perfect sense. 

“What an absolutely horrendous thing to do to your mother. How dare you scare her like that,” I seethed, suddenly very angry and disappointed at Sebastian. The car stopped in a parking lot beside a small shop. He turned around to face me, looking me dead in the eyes with the utmost seriousness. 

“I haven’t forgiven myself. I’ve been indebted to her ever since. It was an ungrateful, careless thing to do, and I’ve been sorry every day for the nine years that have passed.” His sudden seriousness spooked Hannah, who noticed she wasn’t a part of the conversation anymore and left the car. I sat, speechless. I nodded carefully, unsure of what else to do. Sebastian smiled his lopsided smile, I was certain it was special for me at this point. Both of us joined Hannah outside. 

“Is this the shop?” Hannah asked quietly, reverting back to her normal, soft-spoken nature. 

“This is the one, right this way,” Sebastian lead us into a small storefront. Inside, a jovial woman sat behind a counter, waiting for us. “Good afternoon,” Sebastian greeted this rather woman. 

“Oh, Sebastian, what a sight for sore eyes! And who might you two be?” The woman clapped and carried on happily. 

“Hannah and Ciel,” Hannah said, gripping my shoulder. I silently thanked her for taking initiative, suddenly feeling very shy. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Hannah and Ciel,” the woman said, “I’m Victoria, welcome to my glass shop! The eyes are ‘round the corner!” She winked at Hannah and I, releasing us into a sea of coloured glass. I looked around, still in the same spot, behind Hannah. It seemed Victoria was an artist, selling anything from vases to lawn sculptures to glass eyes. Hannah set out to find the eyes, I following close behind. 

“Whoa,” she exclaimed, finding a cabinet full of eyes. It was a bit unnerving, really, they were so realistic. There were eyes of all different shapes and sizes, different colors and styles. Of course, there were standard designs that we could match to our remaining eyes, but Victoria, clearly being an artist before a businesswoman, had made all kinds of different options, ranging from human eyes with inhuman colours to snake eyes, cat eyes, eyes in different stages of albinism, all true works of art. Hannah kept stopping at one in particular, a navy blue one.

“Ciel, look at this one,” she said, reigning in my straying attention. She pointed to the eye in question, “what do you think?” To put it plainly, it was dazzling. A glass eye with amazing depth and passion, it shined with constellations of microscopic stars. I glanced at Hannah, pondering how it would match her pre-existing eye; perfectly. She had the match, I just hadn't noticed until this point. Her dark blue eye held it’s own constellations deep within it, wonderous stars rivalling those within this artificial eye in a glass case. 

“I think it’s beautiful, you should choose it,” I said plainly, knowing I wouldn’t find the right way to phrase it if I tried. 

“Which catches your eye?” she asked, happy that I agreed with her choice. 

“I don’t know,” I said, a bit overwhelmed with the possibilities I hadn’t expected, “I’ll probably just pick one that matches mine, I’m not too creative.” I shrugged, I knew I was plain, save for the awkward blueness of my hair, I didn’t want to call any attention to myself. 

“Here,” she said, looking back down at her options, “I’ll choose on for you.” 

“Hannah, no, you don’t have to--” 

“I think I know you well enough to help you make this decision,” she smiled confidently. I shrugged again, putting my faith in her; when in rome, I guess. She took her time, occasionally glancing at me, pondering her options. Eventually she stopped, looking to me, the same confident smile in place. “Try this one.” I bent down, looking for the one she’d chose. I came across an ordinary looking eye, save for the colour. It was a deep purple, nearly the opposite of my existing eye. There was a certain hypnotic allure about this violet eye, an appeal I didn’t think I possessed. Still, it’s craftsmanship was exceptional, I’d have to mention it to Victoria.

“Wow..” I said dumbly. Hannah’s smile grew.

“Do you see the star?” 

“The what..?” I asked, confusedly. 

“Tilt your head this way,” she said, pushing on my jaw, changing the angle of my gaze, and there it was, etched into a layer of glass further in. It was barely there, unnoticable to those who didn’t know it was there. I pressed my hands to the glass cabinet, peering deep into the eye. It was like it had a soul, a story of it’s own. 

“See something you like?” Sebastian appeared around the corner, startling me. Victoria stood behind him, laughing lightly.

“Oh, Sebastian, you nearly scared the boy to death,” she said, embracing me in a tight, Christian side-hug, “sweetheart you’re so thin, you need to eat!” she inadvertently pulled me further into her embrace, suffocating me in mammary hell. I couldn’t be rude, so I stood there, accepting her form of affection, taking it in stride. 

“Have you two made a decision?” asked Sebastian. Victoria finally released me, curious to see which eyes we’ve chosen. Hannah waved the artist to her, pointing out her favourite eyes. I stood away from them, with Sebastian, letting Hannah have her moment with the artist creating her eye. “What about you, Ciel?” Sebastian placed a hand on my shoulder, much more gently than Victoria had been, which I appreciated. 

I shrugged, “I was going to let Hannah choose for me.” 

“She seems to enjoy your faith in her,” Sebastian noted, watching her speak with Victoria enthusiastically. I quietly agreed, watching Victoria retrieve the eyes Hannah had chosen for us. “How is your conscience?” he asked discreetly, keeping the words between us. 

“I think he’s fine,” I replied, not entirely sure myself, “if I’m honest, I haven’t heard much from him in the last few hours.” Sebastian gave my arm a squeeze, smiling mostly to himself. 

“Lovely choices kids, lovely indeed,” Victoria praised, purposely hiding the eyes from Sebastian's curious gaze. “Ciel, Hannah, if you’ll please follow me to the back. Let’s get these fitted!” Hannah took my hand, leading me to the aforementioned back room ahead of Victoria. “Now,” she started, as soon as we were alone, “Sebastian had explained your injuries to me before you came. It seems like Hannah will be needing a smaller prosthetic, and Ciel needs a full eye. Sound correct?” 

“Sounds about right…” I said quietly, fingers ghosting over my eyepatch. It was true. It seemed Alois had only taken out Hannah’s eye, leaving the surrounding muscle unharmed, and making a partial prosthetic eye the way to go. I, on the other hand, had to have everything scooped out. When the paramedics found me that night, I’d been burned so badly, they had to remove as much as possible to avoid any major scarring. Therefore, I needed a full, complete glass eye. 

Victoria taught us how to properly insert and remove our new eyes, as well as how to clean them and when to replace them. Hannah’s sparkled like it was made for her, perfectly portraying her moods and motivations as well as any eye should. It was a near perfect match, complimenting her natural eye beautifully, a truly amazing choice. I, having gone the last three years simply covering up my deformity, felt enormously uncomfortable with the ball of glass behind my unused right eyelid. I found myself replacing my eyepatch, the routineness of it calming my nerves the slightest bit. Hannah left the back room to show Sebastian, I stayed behind, taking my time in returning. 

“Do you know what that star means?” Victoria asked once Hannah had gone, thankfully not offended that I’d covered up her artwork with my eyepatch. I shook my head, fairly interested in knowing. “Ever heard of the opera _La Damnation de Faust_?” 

“Yes,” I answered, “Faust seduces Marguerite, then abandons her like she’s nothing.” 

“True,” she said, leaning against the wall opposite me, “but it’s the immense sadness and dissatisfaction he carried with him that inspired me to make that eye, Ciel.” I crossed the room, leaning against the wall next to her and urging her to continue. She smiled, “See, Ciel, Mephistopheles offered to save Marguerite from her fate if Faust sold his soul to him; they made a contract later called the Faustian Contract. Mephistopheles would help Faust save his true love for the payment of his soul. He loved her so much that he burned in hell for all eternity for her. I made that eye with a Faustian Contract, knowing whoever chose it would be willing to sacrifice for what they love. That’s you, isn’t it?” 

“I…” I was speechless. It made sense, depressingly beautiful sense. “Thank you, Victoria. This means so much to me… so much…” She brought a hand up to my cheek, caressing me before slowly, almost tentatively, untying my eyepatch. 

“I can tell you’re an extraordinary kid, Ciel. Sebastian’s found a keeper,” she winked at me, handing my eyepatch back, “Don’t be a stranger, okay? Write to me, visit if you can. And always remember that there are people willing to sell their souls for _you_ too.” She gave me a final, much needed hug. I felt like crying, laughing, and never letting go all at once. Eventually, Sebastian and Hannah peeked their heads in. 

“Ready to go?” Hannah asked, both her and Sebastian not fully certain what they’d walked into. I nodded, parting from Victoria. She waved at me, sending her regards to Claude. Hannah Sebastian and I left the shop, heading for the car.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alois Trancy's Point of View

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys. quick snippet before the next fuller, more developed scene ^_^

I hugged the toilet tightly to my chest, violently vomiting the contents of my stomach. I groaned, feeling dizzy between retching sessions. “Why are you doing this to me, Undertaker,” I implored. A tall, gangly man with long grey hair stood behind me, laughing up a fucking storm. “What is your actual name anyway?” 

“Oh Alois,” he gasped between hardy laughter. He laughed at my reddened face, finding my obviously less than ideal state to be very very amusing, “You know I wouldn’t tell you if I knew!” I retched again, clutching the toilet for dear life, hopefully for the last time. 

“Ugh, I feel wrung out,” I whined, spitting the stomach acid into the toilet and flushing, “Remind me again how this helps me.” 

“Well, all those pills were going to kill you, you needed to get them out of your system,” Undertaker replied, giggling at my anguish. 

“You’re enjoying this aren’t you,” I asked, sarcasm obvious in my voice. I stood on frail legs, leaning against the wall for support while my reaper laughed at my pain. 

“Maybe just a little,” he joked, peering through a space he made with his thumb and index finger. I scoffed, making my way to the sink, rinsing my mouth out. I shuddered, still tasting bile, before feebly stepping out of the bathroom and back to my room. “I’ll meet you there, Alois, you walk far too slow,” Undertaker complained, disappearing with a flourish of overly dramatic grey smoke. I sighed again, walking along the hall to my room. 

Once I’d made it down the long 15m trek down the hall, I’d noticed that someone had been in this room without my knowledge. I pushed into the room, hoping to surprise the intruder. Unfortunately, no one was there to scare, just a box, likely to be Ciel’s personal effects. I guess it wasn’t a total loss. I padded to Ciel’s side of the room, making for the box. 

“Oh, look, a discovery, I wonder who put that there,” Undertaker mused, making it clear that he’s the one who lead me to Ciel’s things. I know he did, it’s what he said he’d do, help me win Ciel’s favour. I opened the box carefully, out of the utmost respect I have for him. He didn’t have much, and I guess he didn’t need much either. The box consisted of a few mainly greyscale articles of clothing-- only the staples like shirts and pants, nothing more-- a pair of chucks, a photo album, a black violin case, and a book. I took out the album and the book, sitting on his bed. 

Flipping through the photo album broke my heart. He’d saved pictures of he and his parents, some so vivid I could almost hear their laughter. Ciel’s father, labeled Vincent, looked just like him. Ciel would definitely grow up to be just as, if not, more handsome than his father. His mother, Rachel, was a truly stunning woman, and I don’t swing that way. She looked so loving and happy, content in her perfect, picturesque family. Little Ciel, though, was my favourite part, with his wide, curious blue eyes. In some pictures he was smiling, some he was pouting, some were candid shots of him getting caught misbehaving. He was a precious kid. I turned to a page closer to the end of the album, and what I saw made me feel horrible. I single picture on this page, of he and his parents smiling sweetly. The photo itself was crumpled a bit, singed at the edges. I stared at the photograph; at first I couldn’t figure out why such a profound sadness struck me, but then I noticed the small, imperfect circular stains, tear stains. My blood ran cold, my eyes welling up with my own display of sadness. 

“This must be the only photo recovered from the fire,” I whispered to myself, “I remember Claude telling me about this, how his parents had died and I was supposed to be sensitive about it.” I quickly put the album back in the box, exactly how I’d found it, feeling super guilty. But my guilt didn’t stop me from moving onto the book, hoping it would be less personal. It was titled _Tales of the Macabre_ and I have absolutely no idea what that means, but I paged through it anyway. It was mostly small-printed words collected towards the middle of the page, leaving a strangely large margin. Occasionally, there’d be a picture or two of a very depressed looking man in various situations. Sometimes, he’d be in a boat, or in a study. Other times, he’d be writing in Latin or lighting candles. But one picture stood out. Next to a page that had been dog-eared, there was a picture of the man sitting up in bed, absolutely terrified. Across from him, was the pale figure of a woman, grinning at him. The picture was captioned _The Ghost of Berenice_

“This must be his favourite story,” I exclaimed, brightening the mood with my little discovery. I read through it, or at least tried to. Ciel must be brilliant if he can understand this stuff on the first try. I guess I wasn’t too stupid, since, after a few tries and read-throughs, I managed to understand the gist of it… and it was amazing. So bewitchingly gloomy, this story matched Ciel’s heavyhearted brilliance so perfectly. “I can’t believe I’ve missed out on this…” I mused, reading and rereading this story. 

“Berenice-- I called upon her name-- Berenice!” I heard a voice, not too far way, call out, accompanied with tame giggles of another voice. 

“Shit,” I scrambled to return the book to it’s rightful place, “You weren’t going to warn me?!” I whisper-yelled at my reaper, who was doubled over in over dramatic hysterics. I sprinted to my bed, landing on my side before I heard the voice again. Low and behold, Hannah and Ciel came around the corner. 

“...a thousand tumultuous recollections are startled at the sound--” 

“Oh! gorgeous yet fantastic beauty! Oh! sylph amid the shrubberies of Arnheim! --Oh! Naiad among its fountains! --” I sighed, pleased with my memory. I was actually surprised that my heart recognized the very words I’d just read before my brain did, though the particular line I called out was something I might say to/about him anyway. He froze in the doorway, staring at me, a little startled. Looks like I did get to spook someone today, awesome.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not very good, but here you go. sorry for the shit quality but i've just started another story and it's taking more of my time to get started. this one is still my top priority though! again, thank you so much for your support! also, suggestions are needed!

“Will you tell me more of the story?” Hannah asked with her mouth full, clinging to me as we reentered the house. We’d all stopped by a local bake shop before the trip home, stocking up on sweets and pastries to tide us over until dinner, “The one from the car ride, Berenice, was it?”

“If you tell me what you were so intrigued about in the car on the way to the shop,” I pressed, smirking. 

“Ugh fine,” she agreed begrudgingly. I chuckled at her enthusiasm, clearing my throat and choosing a verse she might like. 

“Berenice and I were cousins,” I began, “and we grew up together in my paternal halls. Yet differently we grew --I ill of health, and buried in gloom --she agile, graceful, and overflowing with energy; hers the ramble on the hill-side --mine the studies of the cloister --I living within my own heart, and addicted body and soul to the most intense and painful meditation --she roaming carelessly through life with no thought of the shadows in her path, or the silent flight of the raven-winged hours. Berenice! --I call upon her name --Berenice!” We skipped about into my room, choosing it as a good place to simply _be_ , but we were wrong, “and from the gray ruins of memory a thousand tumultuous recollections are startled at the sound--” 

“Oh! gorgeous yet fantastic beauty! Oh! sylph amid the shrubberies of Arnheim! --Oh! Naiad among its fountains! --” a certain blond-hair’d, blue eye’d fool joined in, completely unwanted. 

“Disease --a fatal disease!” I yelled, cursing him with quotes from the story, however accidental, it seemed to fit. Still, he smiled cheerfully, perched on his bed across the room. He rolled onto his stomach, waving to Hannah and I like we were supposed to have missed him. Without thinking, I started toward him, thinking to kick his teeth in. His smile waned, noticing the nature of my advancement. He shifted onto his butt, pushing backward, away from me, raising his hands in surrender. “You think you can amend this with lines from Poe? Where did you even learn that?” He pulled his knees up to his chest as a final defense. I stood over him, demanding an answer, and it had better be good. Hannah merely watched from my side of the room. 

“Even while I gazed upon her, the spirit of change swept, over her, pervading her mind, her habits, and her character, and, in a manner the most subtle and terrible, disturbing even the identity of her person! Alas! the destroyer came and went, and the victim --where was she, I knew her not --or knew her no longer as Berenice--” he said, still sitting as far away from me as possible, yet leaning closer to me, hopefully. 

“Excuse me,” I felt my annoyance growing. I knew he didn’t understand what he was saying. He wasn’t nearly smart enough, he didn’t know how to appreciate such words. 

“I’m all in for killing him again, Ciel, it’ll really stir up trouble! Maybe Sebastian will punish me,” Grell drooled, I rolled my eyes, shushing him and waiting for an answer from Alois. 

“I’m trying to… wow…” he said, I realized in that instance that I wasn’t wearing my eyepatch; Victoria had taken it off and I’d never replaced it. 

“What.” I questioned defensively, covering my eye with my hand. Alois rolled forward tentatively, slowly raising a hand to my face. I tensed, closing both of my eyes-- not exactly sure why-- as he took my hand in his, gently removing it from my right eye. He sighed again, a stupid, awestruck look on his face. “I’m waiting,” I said, stubbornly slapping his hand from my face. 

“Ciel, it’s breath taking,” Alois mused, sitting uncomfortably close to me, he so near me, I could feel his breath on my skin. I shivered, making a disgusted sound in the back of my throat. I turned back toward Hannah, who watched quietly, unsure of how to help or whether to intervene. 

“Maybe we should go,” I said to her, prompting her to start moving. I turned to storm out of the room. 

“Wait, please,” Alois cried, “Stay here, I’ll be quiet, I promise.” 

“And why should I give you the satisfaction?” I growled, angry that he’d spoiled a near perfect day. He paused, giving his answer some thought and construction. 

“I tried to kill myself while you were gone, to make it up to you,” he admitted, catching me off guard. 

“Alois, why would you do that?!” Hannah interjected, getting up and rushing to his side. She pulled him close, checking his temperature, pulse, and pupils, caring for him like a professional. 

“Agh! Hannah, get off of me, wench!” he fussed, pushing her away. I glowered at him, a death threat rumbling deep in my chest. “Sorry…” he grumbled, “You look at me with such contempt. I couldn’t bare it, It _still_ hurts. I thought it was what you wanted,” his voice faltered. He squeezed his eyes shut, making the faces one makes when they want to speak, but know they can’t without sobbing. Hannah rubbed circles between his shoulderblades, comforting him despite his harsh words. “I want to be different. Whatever you want me to do, I’ll do it. Anything, just name it. I’ll crawl through broken glass if it’s what you want. I’ll--”

“Enough,” I stopped him in my usual monotone, “Alois Trancy, I don’t like you.” He looked up at me like a kicked puppy, blue irises looking even bluer in contrast with his bloodshot eyes. Instantly, Sebastian’s voice came into my mind.

_”You’re going to have to deal with him for the next five to eight years. You might as well learn to tolerate him,”_ he would’ve said. 

I huffed an exasperated sigh, taking a seat on the foot of his bed, “But I guess I can learn to deal with you, for the time being, and under my rules.” His eyes lit up, smiling brightly but making no moves to touch me in any way like I knew he wanted to. I could see he’s a fast learner, maybe this wouldn’t be as painful as I imagined it would be. 

“I won’t get in the way,” he promised, rubbing his eyes. I cast him a condescending glare, though I knew I was the youngest person in the room. I readjusted, getting as comfortable as I could be at this close proximity to my least favourite human being ever. 

“Well?” I asked Hannah, giving her an expectant look. She made a confused noise, while Alois just watched quietly, waiting to be invited into the loop. “Well, let’s get this sewing circle started. I held up my end of the bargain: I told you a bit of the story from the car. Now you can’t keep it from me any longer: what crossed your mind on the trip there that you can’t tell me?” 

“It’s nothing really,” Hannah cooed, blushing ever so slightly at the amount of undivided attention she was getting. “It’s not bad, just a scenario I thought of but probably won’t ever happen.”

“You ship him with Sebastian,” Alois hypothesized. 

“How did you know!” Hannah gasped, I gave a quiet ‘what’, glancing between the two, not understanding at all what was happening. 

“Hannah, you didn’t hear what Lizzie said?” Alois giggled, fully engrossed in this gossip. Hannah shook her head, eyes shining with anticipation. “She said she saw Sebastian carrying Ciel from the staff side of the house back to this room on one of her sleepwalking trips! Of course she was sleepwalking... but I still believe her!” The colour drained from my face, unbelieving of what was being said. 

“Oh my gosh, Ciel, you didn’t,” Hannah gaped, the both of them watched me, looking for any sort of reaction. 

“Where can I find this ‘Lizzie’ you speak of,” I asked the exactly wrong question, only confirming their suspicions. The blood rushed back into my cheeks. I crossed my arms, huffing angrily at their triumphant laughter. 

“You have to tell me everything.”

“There was such a fight for power on our trip, Alois, you wouldn’t believe it,”

“Is he as strong as he looks, or are you just really light?”

“You’ve only been here three days, how did you manage getting into his room?”

“Shut it. Both of you. Before I slit your throats with the window panes and laugh.” Hannah and Alois sighed, thinking my anger was the cutest thing they’ve ever seen. “Don’t forget I dissected a fully grown woman and almost squeezed your sorry life force out of your mouth,” I remarked. 

“Ciel, we’re just messing with you,” Hannah apologized. 

“I wasn’t,” Alois corrected, Hannah shot him a glare. 

“You two are out of your minds,” I grumbled, “He’s twice my age, you’re sick.”

“I have a challenge for you, Ciel,” Alois smirked, a mischievous look on his face. He propped his chin up on his hands, clasped together on the bed. “If, and in all probability _when_ you find yourself in Sebastian’s room tonight, come back with a souvenir.” 

“Oh, I suppose he sells snowglobes and keychains,” I rolled my eyes. 

“No, no, no, Ciel,” Alois shook his head slowly. He pulled his shirt collar down a bit, showing off large, greenish-purple bruises on his clavicles. They were older than the nearly-black, finger shaped contusions on this throat, but still very noticeable, “Something along these lines,” he smiled deviously, “It doesn’t have to be super proud like mine, but you _do_ have to let us see them.” 

“That’s disgusting and I won’t do it,” I dismissed, crossing my arms and turning my nose up, successfully looking like a stubborn, spoiled child. 

“Oh?” Alois said, scooting closer to me, “Are you saying you’re bailing out of the game?” My eyes snapped open, glaring down at him with a fiery vengeance. How did he know about my competitiveness? 

“Those are fighting words, Alois Trancy,” I growled, Hannah picked up on my seriousness. She went quiet, thinking she and Alois might’ve pushed me too far. Alois remained unfazed. 

“Oh, come on, Ciel, don’t pussy out on me now,” he whined, undeniably desperate to corrupt whatever sliver of innocence I have left. I continued to glare at him, watching him pout and plead with big blue eyes. I knew I would never hear the end of it, and I choose my battles wisely. 

“Fine,” Alois jumped up, clapping his hands.

“Ole!” he sang, celebrating the end of my stubborn protests.

“But, if I end up staying in my own room, like everyone else, you have to hop off and leave me alone,” 

“Ugh, you’re a constant downer huh…” Alois complained. He powered up for another whine when the three of us heard a bustling coming from the hallway. 

“Hannah,” Meirin, scurried into the room, hands full of tableware, “would you help me in the kitchen?” Hannah nodded, getting up and starting toward the door.

“Of course, Meirin,” Hannah said with a small smile, taking armfuls of dishes from her, “See you two later,” she said before leaving the room. I waved, unhappy that she was leaving me with _him._

I stood from his bed, wandering towards mine, I saw that they’d brought my things. I opened the box, searching through it’s contents, and I couldn't help but notice that my violin was sitting on the bed _next to the box._ I thought it was supposed to be in the box, and I didn’t move it myself. I knelt beside my bed, carefully opening the case and laying my eyes on it for the first time in a long while. It was a beautiful instrument, like everything else I surrounded myself with. It’s been in my family for generations. But why was it out of place? Behind me, Alois gasped, breathing a sharp, shaky breath. It all came together. 

“Oh, now I see…” I muttered, turning back to face Alois, “Alois, how did this wind up on my bed?” I took a few steps closer. 

“I-I can explain,” he whimpered, pulling his knees up and getting back into his defensive position. 

“And you just magically knew all of the words to my favourite writings?” 

“Ciel, we were having such fun… Don’t be upset…” I stepped even closer, eventually close enough to touch him. 

“Alois,” I brushed golden locks from frightened eyes, reveling in how his breath quickened, “did you touch my things?” I cupped his cheeks, yet remaining straight faced. He whimpered, having learned to never trust my kindness unless you **know** you’ve earned it. 

“I can explain…” he whispered. 

“By all means.”

“Well,” he started before glancing to the right and looking very confused, “but,” he started over, cutting himself off again, “isn’t honesty the best policy?” He didn’t seem to be talking to me, or even fully aware of what was happening. Something else had his attention. That, or he was playing me. 

“Quit stalling!” I shouted, getting really tired of it, I can’t keep up this calm front much longer, especially with him acting this way. The sudden loudness of my voice spooked him, bringing his focus back to me. 

“I didn’t know it was yours,” he stated plainly, though I could tell he wasn’t telling me the truth. 

“Blasphemy,” I hissed, preparing my attack when another person approached our room, Claude. 

“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” Claude greeted, leaning against the doorframe and looking right into me. My eyes widened as I remembered I was supposed to have a session with him after lunch, but never showed up. 

“I apologize, Sir--” he cleared his throat, raising his eyebrows, “Claude…” I corrected, “I apologize both for the present scenario and for standing you up, I take full responsibility.” He just smiled and chuckled to himself before waving me too him. 

“Water under the bridge,” he said, “Let’s have our chat now, come along.” I followed him out the door. Once I’d made it to him, he took my hand, leading me into the hallway. He sent a hard glare at Alois, who whimpered, and accompanied me to his office.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MURDER because i said so, lol. character death in this one, but no one will care because no one likes the character that dies. i'm sorry for taking so long, i've been fighting my own battles. thank you so much for understanding and thank you so much for reading!

We walked in silence, hand in hand. Occasionally, I glanced up, but Claude looked straight ahead, never making eye contact. It made me uneasy. He did say he wasn’t upset in my forgetting our appointment, but something gave me the feeling that I might’ve been spared, temporarily, because Alois was in the room as well. 

“I heard you’ve expressed an interest in macabre literature.” Claude spoke, breaking the uneasy silence. 

“I have a weakness for the beauty of sadness,” I replied quietly, testing the waters. I knew for a fact he was unhappy with me, yet I didn’t know how he would present this to me. He sensed my timidness, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze. 

“You don’t have to be afraid, Ciel,” he said, “I have a fondness for you and your brilliance that prevents me from ever being cross with you. Furthermore, taking care of your eye is as good a reason to miss our appointment as any. Don’t worry about it.” Oddly enough, despite my evidence that proves he’s not the forgiving type, his words helped ease my tension as I relaxed into a more comfortable silence. 

“I was lead to believe that Alois was your favourite,” I pondered aloud, hoping to get some of my questions regarding him answered. Claude seemed to ponder my comment, piecing together his reply carefully. 

“What Alois Trancy has done to you is unacceptable,” he began, giving me a strict look, “Yes, he does have a condition that makes him more prone to entering people’s personal space, but it’s never an excuse to violate someone. He and I must maintain a pretty close relationship for him to improve, but I couldn’t let this deed go unpunished.” Claude stopped me, being absolutely sure I was listening before he continued, “If he earns your forgiveness he will return to my favour, but until then, he get’s nothing. Of course, you’re not obligated to _ever_ forgive, but he won’t receive his treatments from me until you do. This is why he’s been wanting to be around you since your return. The choice is yours, no rush.” We continued to walk again. 

“If I choose not to accept his apology, he’ll go untreated…” I mused. 

“He’ll learn to control himself in different ways. I’ll see to it that he doesn’t relapse, but he won’t have it the way he wants it.” I couldn’t help but notice how loaded Claude’s statement was. Of course, I had my suspicions, a nymphomaniac would look like a blessing to anyone working in a mental asylum. But still, I didn’t really want to imagine what he _really_ meant. 

We approached his office. I stole a quick glance at the other end of the hall, into Sebastian’s office where he worked diligently at his desk. The movement in the hall made him look up from his work, seeing me. He smiled at me like we haven’t seen each other all day, which isn’t true, but it was still enough to make me smile back. Sebastian waved, charming me from across the hallway. Claude, oblivious to our interaction, opened the door and stepped inside, urging me to join him. I took one last look at Sebastian, who’s smile sank into a confused, slightly alarmed frown. I felt his eyes follow me into Claude’s office, before I closed the door. 

“Well, let’s have a look then,” Claude sighed. I assumed he meant my paperwork, moving to take a seat. Before I could struggle, two hands wrapped around my waist, pulling me upward. I gasped, too surprised to fight it, or even register what was going on. Claude placed me on his desk directly in front of him, peering into my eyes --both original and otherwise-- and filled his hands with my hips, pushing up my shirt to make contact with my skin. 

“What are you doing,” I exclaimed. Claude ignored me, examining my new prosthetics for what seemed like ages. I sat still, becoming uneasy again. I didn’t know what to do with my hands. On one hand, I could slap him away, run, and, in all likelihood, get punished. On the other hand, the safer hand, I could sit still, complete whatever business we’ve yet to discuss, and part amicably. Though I was leaning towards the second option, Grell spoke up, putting his two cents in. 

“So, as great as this _could be,_ I think our best course of action is getting out of here,” Grell deduced, stating the obvious. I would’ve rolled my eyes if I could focus. Claude squeezed my hips, feeling how lithe and pronounced they are. 

“You’re very thin,” Claude mused, running his thumbs along my skin. I shivered, unaccustomed and not understanding. His hands wandered to my waist, then my ribcage, eventually brushing against the brand on my side. I inhaled sharply, hands flying to Claude’s wrists, trying to pry them off of me. Unfazed by my obvious and frantic protest, Claude grew curious about the raised shape he’d brushed against. 

“What’s this?” he asked, pulling up my shirt to my armpits and investigating the brand. I pulled at his wrists once more, fearing the familiarity of this situation. My struggles only irritated him. He collected my wrists in his right hand, holding me fast. “Sit still,” he commanded, uncaring. Panic bubbled up alongside my fear, heating up and fueling my conscience.

“Y-You’re hurting me,” I whined, trying to readjust my bound wrists. Claude looked up into my eyes, pausing his explorations. He spoke not, tightening his grip on my wrists, watching me intently. 

“Take it off,” he commanded, the suddenness of his voice made me flinch. He waited, eyeing me with the same possessive, yet unreadable stare. I folded my arms back, gripping the collar of my shirt and pulling it over my head. I watched him as I turned to my left, giving him a complete view of my brand. 

“Who gave this to you,” he asked, voice coming out like a low, possessive growl that sent a shiver down my spine. 

“After my parents died, I was kidnapped and abused by some secret society.” I heard the same growl play in his throat. He prodded at the brand, tracing its edges, pondering how it must’ve looked with it was fresh, feeling sorry for the amount of pain I must’ve gone through. 

“Did they take advantage of you?” Claude asked, serious vengefulness deepened his voice, making me cringe. I trembled, cold, scared, and powerless. 

“Yes,” I replied shyly. I had a feeling he wanted an answer, “T-They told me I have a certain melancholy loveliness about me, although, given my slight stature, a rather effeminate loveliness--” 

“You’ve been told correctly,” he mused. His lips found their way to the juncture between my neck and shoulder. 

“What are you doing!” I cried, yanking at his grip around my wrists, “Let me go!” He paid no attention, sucking a bite he’d made. There would be a bruise there before long. “Claude please,” I whimpered, light tremours becoming violent terrors, “Let me go, I won’t tell anyone… just let me go.” 

“Shhh.” I made a small, nervous noise. I couldn’t stop the anxious tears from sliding down my cheeks. I heaved shaky breaths. I know can’t win. All I can do is let him do what he likes and try to forget. But, to my surprise, Grell wasn’t having it. 

“I don’t like this,” he whined, “this isn’t romantic at all, it’s scary.” I sobbed quietly, silently asking for his help out of this. “What did you have in mind, darling? Oh, I hope it’s something interesting,” I could hear the interested smile spread across his invisible visage, warming his voice. I sent him my hastily thought out plan through the air. We made our quick agreements, setting our escape plan before commencement. 

“Give me your strength,” I whispered, knowing only Grell could hear me. Quickly, I ripped my hands from him, balled up my right hand into a fist, drew it back, and drove it directly into the bridge of his nose with a bloodcurdling crack. Everything was still for a half second before blood began to pour from his nose. Claude clutched at his face, pushing me from his lap. I landed on my feet, rather gracefully-- given the situation-- stretching the ache from my fingers. Claude was still and quiet, blood staining his face, gloves, and jacket. 

I would’ve stopped there, but Grell’s energy wasn’t satisfied. With my hands, he grabbed the back of Claude’s head and smashed it into the corner of his desk, crushing his skull. I could only watch, terrified, as Grell… as _I_ repeatedly picked him up and smashed him down. Gore thoroughly soaked everything in sight, including my skin, hair, and discarded shirt. Blood and brain matter covered the once “beautiful” man, his once beautiful jacket, once beautiful office. 

“How beautiful,” Grell sighed, “Everything. Red. Just the way I like it.” 

“What have I done…”

“You saved yourself! See, now everything’s good!” Grell’s voice had a nervous edge to it, as if convincing himself that that was, indeed, a good idea, and not completely psychopathic, “He won’t bother us now, that’s a good thing, right?” 

“Grell, what did you make me do!?” I looked down at my hands, now completely red with blood, not a single spot of me was clean. I couldn’t use my shirt, as it was buried under Claude’s shattered skull, stained and drenched. I backed up, tripping over the rug and falling out of the office. 

“Ciel?” Sebastian flew from his desk, rushing to my side, “Oh my god, what happened?!” 

“I’m so sorry, Sebastian.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey hey hey! here you go!

“Ciel, are you okay?”

“Oh my god, what’s happened?” 

“Where’s Meirin!?”

“Claude is dead?!”

“Get the other patients out of here, this is a private matter.”

“He hasn’t said a word.”

“I think he’s hyperventilating--” 

“Will you all just shut up! Cease your infernal chattering and get back to work!” Sebastian pushed everyone aside, with me in his arms, and hurried towards my room. Some tried to follow, but with a sharp, stern glare, they quickly turned on their heels and headed in the other direction to clean up my mess. I clung to him, still quaking. I stared blankly at the floor, watching the rug pass by in a blur of muddled colours. I heard the sound of alarmed panic fade, after turning a corner we were out of earshot. Sebastian threw open the door, rushing to my side of the room. Alois, formally stretched out like a cat, jumped up at the sight of blood. 

“What the bloody hell’s going on,” he yelled, starting toward Sebastian and I. I was placed onto my bed in a sitting position, Sebastian knelt before me, I on the bed and he on the floor. 

“Sebastian, what’s all the fuss-- Holy shit,” 

“Alois, please go find Hannah,” Sebastian ordered, flexing his authority. 

“There’s so much blood--”

“Alois, get out, now.” Sebastian growled, Alois gasped, running out of the room, spooked by Sebastian’s sudden change of character. He turned back to me, frustration easing into deep concern. “What did you do…” he asked me, sighing, holding my hands as tight as he could, trying to will the words out of me. 

“Sebastian…” I whimpered in a small, barely audible voice. One of his hands came up to my face. I flinched involuntarily, eventually allowing him to touch me. Slowly, he stilled my tremours, and evened out my breathing. “He’s… I didn’t mean to, you must believe me. He tried to--” 

“Stop,” Sebastian said, “We’ll definitely talk about this, but for now let’s get you cleaned up.” 

“Hannah’s in the bathroom,” I heard Alois call from the doorway, barely peeking into the room. Sebastian made a quiet, frustrated sound, but not quiet enough as to not startle me. I jumped, squeaking at the anger in his voice. He noticed my fright, apologizing quietly before turning in the doorway’s direction. 

“Thank you, Alois, that will be all for now. When Hannah is out please return with her,” Alois nodded, disappearing from the door once more. “Well, I guess these didn’t go to waste,” Sebastian mused, just barely loud enough for me to hear. I stared at my knees, numbly registering the movement beside me. Sebastian returned to my side, taking a spot on the bed. Making use of an 1800s wash basin on my nightstand, he pressed a cold washcloth to my face, cleaning off the topmost layers of blood and gore. I tensed at his touch, all too recent memories flashed within my mind’s eye. Friendly, caring touches sent shivers and cold sweats down my spine. He noticed. He always notices. And I could tell I’d hurt him by not trusting him. 

“Sorry,” I said quietly. He just smiled, sadly, like he knew how hard it was for me to even speak. He continued cleaning me, wiping off the blood of his friend in short, tentative strokes. Once my face was clean enough for now, he moved onto my neck and shoulders. The rag passed over a particularly sensitive area, I winced, hissing quietly at the pain. It felt sore, raw, unlike the rest of me which ached with a sad hopelessness. Sebastian set the rag in the wash basin, staining the water red, and examined my neck. His eyes widened, then narrowed into angry slits. 

“There’s no way…” he grumbled under his breath. I made a confused noise, tilting my head to the right. He ran his thumb over the area, making me wince again. “Ciel, I know it’s hard, but do you think you can tell me what happened in that office prior to what you did as a reaction?” He looked me dead in the eyes. Whatever discovery he’d made, he wanted it confirmed. 

“I missed an appointment.” 

“And then?” I remained silent, his persistence translating as anger and frustration, making me shrink further into myself. He sighed, taking both my hands again, “Please,” he begged, “at least tell me if my suspicions are correct.” I looked directly at him for the first time, wanting him to voice these suspicions. He sighed again, “Did he try to make you do things that you weren’t comfortable with?” When I looked down into my lap and gave a small nod, a wave of unfathomable anger flashed across his features. His eyes burned red for a mere second, but that was all it took. I drew my knees up as fast as lightening strikes, staring, horrified, in his direction yet not seeing him. All I could see was that flash of anger. His anger shifted to horror as well when he realized he’d scared me. 

“Ciel, I’m--” I retreated, running as fast as I could to the bathroom. Slamming the door, I stripped out of my remaining clothes, turning on the water to the hottest setting. I felt dirty, tricked, and used. Standing under scalding water raining from the ceiling didn’t help. It made it worse. The blood and flesh were washed away, unmasking a lost, sad, murderous little boy. That’s what I am. I’m sick and useless, only good for sating the physical pleasures of powerful men-- then murdering them when I realize I’m in over my head. 

I sank to my knees, then into a sitting position. I hugged them tight, feeling the water burn my skin and eyes, but doing nothing to save myself. A big sob rolled up in my chest, pushing up through my esophagus and forcing the tears to start to fall. I don’t know how long I sobbed, but by the time I’d tired myself out, the water had gone from hellfire to frozen. 

“I don’t know what you’re so upset about, you _are_ the one who asked for my help,” Grell complained, feeling the rawness in my skin and the ache of my muscles as if it were he sitting here. 

“I didn’t want to kill him!” I yelled, “I just wanted to get away…” 

“And you did, so what’s the problem?” 

“The problem is you!” I convulsed with the power of my voice, yelling at voices no one else could hear, “I would’ve never been sent here if it weren’t for you! None of this would’ve happened!” 

“But It Did!!” Grell wailed, scaring me into silence, “Without me, you’d’ve died long ago.”

“No I wouldn’t,” I countered, “You’re not real!” The room went silent, save for the sound of my erratic breathing. Moment’s later, I heard someone approach the door. “Get out!” I yelled without looking up to see who it was. I didn’t care who it was. I didn’t want them here. Two pairs of footsteps drew nearer to me, stopping briefly, then continuing to me. One of the two people invading my personal space knelt down, adjusting the heat of the water to a comfortable setting. I didn’t have to look up to feel a hand drawing closer and closer. “Don’t touch me,” I snapped, the hand paused before making tentative contact. 

“I Said DO. NOT. TOUCH ME,” my right hand zoomed out from under my head, wrapping around the closest throat I could find. I glared hard at the intruder, before realizing who it was. Hannah reached up to cling to my hand around her neck, looking alarmed but not scared. Alois stood just a few feet behind her, holding various towels and soaps and what not. My heart stopped for a long moment as I pulled my hand back as if I’d been burned. I stared at her, completely shocked and both her presence, and my actions against her. Had I been under Grell’s influence, I would’ve killed her in a flash. 

“It’s okay, Ciel,” she whispered, “Can I get you cleaned up? You’re not bloody, but you’re still grimey.” She waited patiently for my response. 

“Hannah, I’m so sorry,” I started, feeling guilt and relief flood my lungs. 

“Hey, hey,” she comforted me, “it’s okay, I’m alright, you’re alright, everything is fine, Ciel, don’t worry.” She smiled at me, and set to work on getting me clean enough to leave the bathroom. We all knew that nothing was okay, but I was too busy being dumbstruck to say anything. This is the single kindest thing anyone has ever done for me. Even Alois, sitting away from me and looking out the window, though he desperately wanted to help, was an amazing blessing. If there is a God, he had _blessed me_ with these two people. I knew Hannah had motherly, caregiving qualities, but it must’ve took all the willpower Alois could muster to stay away, given what he’s done to me and how it might affect me now. I’d have to thank him one day. 

With quick work, no questions, and no resistance, I was cleaned, and left alone to redress. I noticed their choice of clothing was geared towards sleeping-- being a large shirt and not much else as to keep from rubbing my legs-- though it’s still quite early, they expected me to remain in my room for the rest of the evening. I understood, stepping out of the bathroom and preparing for a long nap. My eyepatch waited for me on my nightstand. I stared at it, pondering it’s existence and symbolism before holding it up to my right eye and tying it in place. Hannah and Alois waited for my attention before speaking. 

“Let me know if you get hungry,” Hannah said, “you’re supposed to stay in here until you’re ready to talk to Sebastian, but you know where to find me.” She gave my shoulder an affectionate squeeze before turning and heading out of the room. I was surprised when Alois turned to follow her, even though this was his room, too. 

“Um.. Alois, wait,” I called, staring at the rug. He stopped at the door before turning to face me. “I’m…” I didn’t know exactly how I wanted to word it. I was thankful for his distance, sorry for his loss, happy for his understanding. But how do I say that without really saying that? 

“You didn’t know what you were doing, did you,” he asked in perfect, relieving interruption. I looked up from the rug, picking at my cuticles and stepping awkwardly closer to him. I opened my mouth to say something, anything to excuse the wrongs I’ve committed, but nothing would come out. I settled for a shake of the head, casting my eyes downward once more. “It was your conscience that made you do it, right?” he asked. I nodded, feeling the guilt and blame rise up within me. 

“I’m so sorry, Alois. I know what Claude must’ve meant to you. I _did_ mean to hurt him, but only enough to make my escape, never to--” a pair of hands grasped mine, pulling them apart before my nail beds bled. 

“Escape..?” 

I couldn’t voice it. Telling him about Claude’s true nature would devastate him, I was sure of it. Of course, he was aware that Claude was rough and more that a little bit creepy, but did Alois know he was also one to betray trust? After all of the consideration he’s given me, all the benefits of doubt, he doesn’t deserve the treatment he’d received from Claude, or myself for that matter. But, at the same time, he deserved to know the truth. I had to make a decision, to tell him or not to tell him. And the best way to spare him the most was with this. I tilted my head to the side, letting the collar of my nightshirt brush uncomfortably across my bruised and broken skin. 

“This isn’t what either of us had in mind earlier, was it,” I said with defeated sarcasm. Maybe it wasn’t the best response, but I’ve never been great with communication, especially at times like this. I kept my eyes downward, knowing the expression on his face might break my heart, however nonexistent I say it might be. One of the hands around my wrists removed itself, crawling up my arm to graze the bitten bruise. The only semblance of sound loud enough to hear was the flutter of my lungs, and my lungs alone. I bit my tongue and looked up, unable to hold up against the tension in our room, growing thicker and hotter, like fog or steam. He stared at me, unmoving, unbreathing, like a statue. 

“Give me a minute,” he said after a long, uncomfortable pause. He released my wrists and made for the bathroom, quickly locking himself inside.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alois Trancy's Point Of View

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> good early early morning, ladies and gents!

_He cheated on me?_ I thought, feeling the hurt boil up in my lungs. I leaned heavily against the door, the weight of realization pulling me down to the floor. I sat there, legs splayed out and forgotten. _Who’d’ve thunk it._

“Actually there was no relationship between you and Claude Faustus, but it does kind of look like it, yeah,” Undertaker giggled, making himself known to me, and not Ciel. 

“Bring him back,” I demanded quietly. I shut my eyes, preventing the angry tears from escaping. 

“Why? It’s not _my_ job to exact revenge,” Undertaker complained, boredom plain in his voice, “You’ve got yourself the wrong reaper, kid. I’m here to somehow obtain Ciel Phantomhive, and that’s it.” 

“You can’t bring him back for _five minutes?_ ” I complained, “it’s no big deal… I’ll have him back by seven.” 

“And what would you do with him, if I did what you asked?” he chuckled again, both at my dumb response and at the building interest in the situation. 

“What wouldn’t I do…” I growled, the bubbling hurt boiled over into a jealous fury, “I can’t believe this, Undertaker, didn’t everyone notice that he doesn’t like to be touched? I mean, come on. He tried to _kill me,_ damn it. And what sort of magic does Claude have to make it okay to pursue _little ass boys?!_ ” I ranted. I’m a ranter, I do this all the time, I can’t help it, sorry. 

“Okay, stop,” Undertaker interrupted, “You lost me. Who are we upset with, again?... And why are we upset with them?” 

“What about this is unclear?!” I wailed, slamming my fists into the tiled floor, beginning a serious temper tantrum, “We’re angry! We’re mad at Claude for hurting Ciel. Did you see him? All of his confidence is gone, it was stolen! It was right for Ciel to send that bastard to hell. It’s where he belongs for hurting him so badly!” 

“If you don’t keep it down, you’ll only scare him more. He already thinks you’re ‘round the bend.” 

“I Don’t Care!” I screamed, reaching the climax of my tantrum. A timid rap on the door send me hurdling back down to reality, realizing that Undertaker was right. 

“Alois, are you okay..?” 

Shit, it’s too late now, he definitely heard me, “I’m fine,” I lied, “It’s okay, don’t worry.” 

“Can I come in..?” 

Shit, I have to come clean. Besides, there’s no believable excuse for yelling at yourself in a bathroom. Maybe I am crazy. I took a quick glance at the mirror, fixed my eyes, and turned back to the door. I opened it slowly, I wasn’t sure how close he was and didn’t want to accidentally attack him with a door, and there he was. I never really noticed how small he was, he’s a snip really. He’s not much smaller than me, but short enough to cast his eyes upward when he looks at me. 

“Who were you yelling at..?” 

Shit, this kid was good. Or maybe he just knows what to look for. “I-It’s a long story,” I stammered, searching for words to say. 

“I heard you say my name… a few times. I’ll understand if you’re mad at me--”

“No,” I said quickly, “I’m not mad at you, Ciel, I could never be mad at you. I’m just…” I paused, looking for the right words to say. Ciel waited quietly for my response. “I wish you didn’t know what it feels like to be taken advantage of.” He just stared at me, with his deep, unreadable eyes. My God, do I want to be able to read those eyes, though one of them is patched, they still speak together. There’s never just _one eye_ there’s always two, regardless if one is hidden away. 

I wandered over to my side of the room, turning back and seeing that he wasn’t following. 

“Come on,” I said, waving him to me. The two of us sat on my bed. Normally, I try to take up as much room as possible, but it seemed a little inappropriate this time. I sat cross-legged at the head of my bed, and he at the foot. 

“I don’t believe you.” 

“Don’t believe what?” I admit, I was a little hurt at his distrust, but I understood where it came from. He looked into his lap, picking at his nails again. “Don’t do that,” I said, pulling his hands apart and holding them, “you’ll hurt yourself eventually. I used to pick at my nails a lot when I first came here.” 

“You did..? Why?” 

“I don’t really know,” I half smiled, “I guess I was just nervous and felt like I was losing my mind.” 

“Were you?” 

“Of course not,” I almost giggled, loving his newfound naivety, “None of us are crazy, Ciel. We just need a little help getting through hard times.” 

“I guess I just need a little extra help…” 

“You know that’s okay, right? Just remember that you’re not completely batshit. No one is… except Lizzie. That bitch done lost her mind.” He smiled, and I felt like I’d won the lottery. We sat in a short silence, laughing in our minds at how strange Lizzie Midford is. She’s the only person here who’s straight up weird, everyone else is just fine. I noticed he’d put his eyepatch on again. I know it’s not my place, but I couldn’t help it. I reached up to the knot holding the patch to his face. 

“What are you doing.”

I pulled my hands back, “can I take it off?” 

“Why?” 

“You’re better than this,” He watched me, listening intently. I took a deep breath, preparing to get all kinds of sappy, “I think I know what the eyepatch means to you. After you got a new eye with Hannah, you only wear it when you feel bad about yourself, like you think you’re not making progress.” He looked shocked, hell I was shocked. Who gave me the right to make these grand assumptions? Still, I continued, “Whenever you’re not wearing it, you look so much happier. Seriously, you really are doing just fine. See? On your first night you tried to kill me. I did deserve it… but here we are, talking like we’re friends..?”

“We are friends.” 

“Pheww.. the suspense was killing me,” I half joked, trying to bring the mood up. 

“Take it off if you like… I don’t care.” 

I was speechless for a while, taken aback by his invitation to take away his security blanket. After another silence, I reached back, untied the knot, and caught the patch as it fell from his face. His eyes were squeezed shut. 

“Open up, darling, the worst is over,” I tried to comfort him the best I could. WHere was Hannah when I needed her? But at the same time, this was _my_ time with Ciel and not hers. 

“I’ll open my eyes when you tell me that ‘long story.’”

“Wha..?” 

“You sounded so angry. The only other person there was me. You said you weren’t mad at me, but it doesn’t make sense any other way.”

Shit, he’s onto me again. “I wasn’t yelling at you, I promise.”

“I don’t understand…” 

I sighed, here goes nothing, “How do you want it? Do you want me to tell you outright or--” 

“Just tell me.” 

“I died that day, when I tried to kill myself,” I started, looking into my lap, “I don’t know how to explain it. I guess it was a dream, but someone appeared to me, said if I hold up my end of the deal, he’ll help me earn your forgiveness and friendship and stuff like that. So, here I am, alive and doing my best...” 

“You too..?” 

“Yeah,” I replied, silently thanking my lucky stars that he took it so well. I was too scared to tell Claude even and he’s my psychologist, well he was until now. I was so relieved Ciel didn’t freak out like I’d expected him to. He opened his eyes and looked deep into mine. 

“That’s who you’ve been talking to… I notice when you go on little tangents when you think you’re alone.” 

“Oh,” I was starting to feel a little embarrassed. I stared downward, pouting just the slightest bit. I felt him scoot closer to me, squeezing my shoulder and peeking at my face through my hair. 

“Thanks for telling me.” 

“Thank _you_ for not freaking out,” I giggled. He smiled back as if nothing had happened. We chatted some more about our reapers. Apparently his-- a wild, red headed, sexual nightmare-- might know Undertaker, though he won’t give Ciel a straight answer when he asks. It seems like Grell is a little like me in some ways, and Undertaker is a little like Ciel in his appreciation of beautiful things. Slowly our conversation turned to other things. 

“I don’t know what I’d do without you guys.” 

My heart fluttered, feeling so honoured, “Well, Hannah, Sebastian, and I wouldn’t know what we’d do without you either. We’re a team.” 

“I don’t think Sebastian would want to be on a team with me.” 

“What are you talking about, he’s your second biggest fan! The first being me, and I fight to defend my position every day.” I giggled. I giggle, I do this all the time, I can’t help it, sorry. 

“I don’t think so.” 

A dark cloud settled over him. “What do you mean? What happened?” 

“I told him Claude did this to me, and he was furious.” 

“Oh, sweetheart,” I pulled him into my arms, feeling him shake with the effort of staving off tears, “Please tell me you know he wasn’t mad at _you_.” 

“I’ve never seen anyone react that way towards me.”

“He wasn’t reacting that way towards _you_ , he was angry, yes, but it wasn’t you. He doesn’t want anyone touching you, or doing anything you wouldn’t want them to do. Kind of like me, I wasn’t mad at _you_ , I hated what Claude tried to do to you. Sebastian’s just very possessive and lost it. It’s not your fault.” 

“Yes it is. I should’ve known.”

“Don’t you ever say that.” I said sternly, “Ciel, there was no way you could’ve guessed what was going to happen. That’s not how life works. He got his, so you can move on and pick up the pieces. Sebastian would be more than happy to help you, Hannah and I, too.”

“I bolted. He must think I don’t trust him anymore. What if he’s given up on me?” 

“You wanna know what I think?” I squeezed him tighter in an attempt to remove his doubts. He nodded, holding onto me as well. “I think he sees a lot of himself in you, and that makes him like you way more than he knows what to do with.” 

“What do you mean?” 

I smiled, that curious naivety getting to me again, “He definitely thinks about you every second of the day. He does things for you that he wouldn’t do for anyone else. Going to town and getting prosthetic eyes out of his own pocket, for example,” his eyes widened for a split second, he’d probably never assumed Sebastian had paid for them himself, “He let Hannah tag along because she’s your friend and has the same problem,” I added, adding to his awestruck moment. 

“How can you tell…?”

“He’s different with you. He’s much more relaxed and fun to be around, not that he isn’t always fun. You make him happy. It’s adorable, really. That’s why Hannah and I joke about you going together.” 

“I see…”

He thought hard, so hard I could see his cogs turning. “I think you should talk to him,” I said. 

“What do I even say…” 

I thought for a moment about what _my_ goal was. I love him. I can say it with confidence, I Love Him. Especially after this time we’ve spent. He was just as insecure as I am. He wanted to be understood and looked after, and I wanted to do that for him. But above all, I wanted him to be happy. He’d be happier with Sebastian than he would with me. 

“Come on,” I said, standing from the bed, “We’ll go together, and think about what to say.” He stood up, following me out of the room. 

“Why are you helping me?” 

“What are friend’s for?” I said, letting some of my defeat slip through. He noticed and frowned. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” I smiled halfheartedly, “Just a little sad that you had to go through that is all.” I turned left before Ciel expected me to and he sent me a puzzled look. “We should check his room first, I doubt he’s anywhere near the offices now. Someone probably told him to get some rest.” We walked in silence for the rest of our trip. Occasionally, I glanced over to see Ciel either watching the floor, the walls, or the end of the hallway. Soon, we reached his room. 

“What if he’s not there?”

“Then we’ll go back to our room and chat about nothing in particular, I guess. See what Hannah’s up to.” 

“Maybe this isn’t a good idea.”

“Just knock. If he’s, there, he’s there. If he’s not, we’ll go.” Seeing that I’d won this argument, and I was more than a little smug about it on the inside, he knocked quietly at the door. 

“Yes?” came a response from behind the door. Ciel looked up at me, a little frantic. 

“It’s okay,” I whispered, loud enough for Sebastian to hear, but I don’t think Ciel noticed that possibility. I looked back to the door, expecting Ciel to open it and allow me to leave. He rose on the balls of his feet and pecked my cheek. 

“Thank you, Alois.”

My face burned, and words escaped me. I nodded and made my exit, stopping just around the corner to listen in and make sure he’s alright. 

“Can I come in?”

The door opened, “Of course…” 

He seemed okay. Though Sebastian seemed surprised, he didn’t kick him out or anything outrageous like that. It was safe for me to leave, and I did. Heading back to my room, I grazed my cheek, recognizing just where he’d kissed me. I thought about telling Hannah, but no, this was _my_ moment of triumph, not hers.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> evening, gents! next bit ready for your eager eyes!!!!!

“Can I come in?” I said shyly. It was too late to turn back now. Alois had already disappeared and I can’t say with certainty that I know how to get back yet. 

“Of course…” a low voice assured. I realized I was staring that the floor, raking my eyes upward to meet his. Completely defeated wouldn’t begin to describe how sad he looks, and completely annihilated wouldn't begin to describe my last shred of calm. 

“Sebastian, I’m--” 

“Please,” he said softly, stepping out of the way, “come in.” He wandered back into his room. I followed, and something he’d said the last time I was here popped into my mind: _Please forgive me, as I hadn’t had time to tidy up before you so rudely attempted Alois Trancy’s life._ This must be what he’d meant. His room was spotless, cleaner than a CB2 magazine. This must be how clean it usually is in his room. Last time there had been one or two misplaced things, and I thought _that_ was clean. I stared absentmindedly into the room from the doorway. I vaguely registered his voice, but I was already so deep in thought that I could barely pay attention to anything that wasn’t how miraculously clean this room was. 

“That’s what he meant…” I whispered, as if daydreaming would somehow make the events of the day go away. 

“Beg your pardon?” I quickly returned to reality and refocused my vision on a now, semi-naked Sebastian pulling off an undershirt and casting it aside. 

“What on earth are you doing…” I tensed, prepared to run, but he made no moves towards me. Instead, he backed up a few steps and raised his hands in surrender. 

“I’m just going to shower. I thought I warned you, but maybe I didn’t speak loud enough, I’m sorry.” He stood there, as far from me as possible, trying to show his intentions were truly innocent. I was uneasy, but also very touched. The people I care about have gone through great lengths to make me more comfortable in the last hour alone. _I_ infringed on _his_ privacy, yet he’s doing his best not to cross any lines. “I won’t be long, I promise. You’re welcome to stay here for as long as you like.” He gathered up what I assumed was a change of clothing. I relaxed a bit, trusting him enough to cross my path. He noticed my nerves calm down, smiling slightly and ruffling my hair. “I’ll be right back, will you be alright?” 

“I’ll be okay, I’ll just… wait here,” I shrugged, feeling very meek all of the sudden. He left me, heading for the bathroom on the end of the hall, and I took a seat on the foot of the bed. I felt fidgety, swinging my legs on the side of the bed and wringing my hands. “I feel so… young,” I mused aloud, striking up a conversation with Grell to keep from getting bored. 

“Why?” he teased, “is it that you feel young because you’re almost horridly underdeveloped for a boy your age? I mean you are extra dainty, if you get my drift. Or is it because Sebastian is like ten plus years older than you?” 

“Wow…” I blushed, “ten plus.. that sounds about right…” I hadn’t really thought about the age of any of my new acquaintances, save for Hannah, who I asked directly. I knew he was older than I was, he’s an adult, but for some reason, ten years sounded like a very long time. 

Grell exclaimed with a drawn out ‘ooooooh’, sounding like of of those canned, faux audience responses you hear in sitcoms. 

“Shut up,” I snapped at the voice in my head. 

“You want that as much as I do, I can tell!”

“What did I _just_ say.” 

Grell, however, was much too preoccupied to listen to me. “Thank you Jesus,” he praised, “you must be joking. I think we died and went straight to heaven. Just look at what we’ve won! God, that body, I knew it all along!” 

“You’re really sick, you know that?” I spat, getting very annoyed very quickly. 

“At least I’m honest with myself,” he stated, “Ah, I bet his skin is so soft~” 

“You’re headed off the edge of the map, Grell,” I warned. It was an empty threat, but a threat nonetheless. 

“You’re telling me you _never ever_ fantasize about him?” he exclaimed, quickly getting very irritating, “Are you okay? Are you sick?” 

“Are you just now noticing this? You _are_ my sickness.” 

“Ouch…” 

“Besides,” I went on, “Not only am I far too young, and far too averted, I’m also much better than you, and anyone else so keen on sating such primitive urges. It’s a dreadful waste of time, and I won’t partake in that aspect of human existence.” 

“Oh, get over yourself, he’s hot, you know it, you love it, now what are you going to do about it!?” Grell whined, mostly because if I didn’t succumb, he wouldn’t get to do the unimaginable things he wanted to do. 

“I don’t know!” I shouted before I could stop the words from tumbling out of my mouth. 

“What do you mean, you ‘don’t know’?!” he shouted back, “Here you are, always having an answer for everything, well answer me this, what makes you think that we’re too good for someone like our Sebastian?” Grell argued, pressing all of the right buttons to illicit the reaction he was looking for. All sense disappeared. 

“I’m me!” I shouted, voicing my competitive counter argument. I counted my micro-arguments on my fingers, adding a visual representation for someone so unlikely to understand, “I’m too young, too stubborn, too insane, and too caught up in YOUR homicidal tendencies! That’s why, pursuing my fucking psychologist is completely out of the question!” 

“What’s out of the question? Ciel, are you alright?” 

I suddenly realized where I was… what I was doing. I’d somehow made it off the bed to face a back corner. I was angrily shouting at someone others couldn’t see. And Sebastian had returned from the bathroom without my noticing, but he definitely noticed me. I was speechless. 

“Well,” Grell said nonchalantly, “You made your bed, now sleep in it. Preferably with him, but unless that happens, I’m not helping you out of this.” 

“Shut your filthy mouth.” I growled, caught between unfathomable rage and unbelievable humiliation. 

“My apologies…” Sebastian said. I turned my eyes to him, unsure if he’d said that or if I’d just imagined it. Why on earth would he be sorry?

“Oh my god…” I whispered to myself. It was so clear. He’d just lost his friend and colleague, taking on sole responsibility for at least 60 patients, most completely insane. He’d retreated to his last place of privacy to have it invaded by me, the perpetrator of this crime. He trusted me. He thought I was level headed enough to let his guard down, to abandon his psychoanalyst state of mind. And it sounded as though my enraged silencing had been directed towards him. I betrayed that trust. 

“Sebastian, please don’t be sorry, I’m the one who should be sorry, I wasn’t speaking to you, I was speaking to Grell, I assumed you’d be out still, I didn’t hear you come in,” I rambled frantically, trying to erase the woe from his usually cheerful face. I came closer, pressing panicked words into his mind, regardless of his wishes. He just stood there, watching me struggle to explain. His silence made the panic in me rise to my throat. It made me overreact. “Why won’t you say anything?!” I cried, “I’m sorry, a thousand times, sorry. Just say something!” 

He sighed, trying to bring himself to smile even the smallest bit, but lacked the energy to do more than stare. He just stood in the doorway, still damp from washing the day away, and watched. “Thank you for coming to see me, though I’m unaware of your true intentions,” he finally said, his last comment ripping me up inside, “I’d be happy to walk you back to your room if you’d like.” 

“You’re… You don’t think I came here to _harm_ you…” A ball of fire and ice rocketed around in my chest, colliding with my ribs, my heart, my lungs, making me shake and sway where I stood. 

“Believe me,” he replied in the same low, monotonous, authoritative voice he’d been using since he’d scooped me up in the hallway, “the fact that _that_ was the first conclusion I jumped to upon returning to my own room concerns me very much.” 

“So, you’re just going to walk me back to my room? You said we could talk about this!” Confusion and panic blended together, burning through my veins and shaking my vocal chords. I was on the verge of a serious breakdown and there was nothing I could do to stop this. Even Sebastian, my last ray of hope in terms of regaining my sanity, was doubtful of my recovery after today’s events. He reached out to me before hesitating and changing his mind, too scared to even touch me. 

“We can, but I don’t see that there’s much to discuss at this point,” he rejected, clearly unwilling to endure my presence any longer. I wouldn’t make him suffer. 

“Then don’t take me back to my room, Sebastian, lock me up,” I said, making my decision to end his misery, “Send me back to London. I’ll walk there if I have to--”

“Absolutely not.” Sebastian said firmly, startling me out of my rant and into silence. He turned around, glancing into the hallway before closing the door. “Do you know what they would do to you in prison? You murdered a man for getting a bit too handsy! You can’t fight all of them, Ciel. Leaving this facility is entirely _out of the question._ ” 

“Then lock me in a closet and throw away the key!” I countered, getting very irrational. His words, his implications, they buzzed in my head like a million knives. He believed that I’d come here to hurt him. And that hurt me more than my conscience could ever hope to exude. 

“Why? why would you want something like that?” he asked. 

“What if I hurt someone else…” He sighed, passing me to sit heavily in the chair across from me. Even his mannerisms were different in his state of despair. I was so used to his perfect posture and his neverending, yet not unnerving, eye contact. Now he slouched, bending his spine so much so that _I_ felt uncomfortable. I stood awkwardly near the door, waiting to see if he’d invite me into his space. 

“If you genuinely believe that might be an issue, I can make the arrangements,” he offered. I nodded, keeping my distance, despite my urge--or possibly the urge of my conscience-- to draw nearer. “But in exchange I’d like for you to stay with me tonight. Deal?” He looked up at me this time, watching for a response. I stood, still maintaining our personal spaces, completely thrown. 

“Why?” I could help but ask. He waved me to him, I timidly followed his directions and sat opposite him on the bed. We stayed quiet, I waiting for his answer, and he choosing the right words to say. After a short while, he spoke. 

“Claude and I have been colleagues for quite a while, though I wouldn’t say we were friends,” he began, his eyes darting back and forth between mine and his hands in his lap, “I suppose everyone here would assume that I’d be outraged that _my patient_ had been the one to take his life. And, in a way, I _was_ outraged.” I tensed up, preparing a long, rambling apology, but he gave me a look that said he wasn’t finished yet. “I, as well as the rest of the staff, had been turning a blind eye to his misdeeds. We all knew he was especially… fond… of a certain type of patient. I was outraged that I hadn’t seen the signs before it was too late.”

“Oh…” I whispered, feeling absolutely horrid for assuming he was angry with me. It makes sense now, but he wouldn’t let me apologize. I held my tongue, staying quiet and hearing him out. 

“I also knew about your past, and your capabilities where it comes to… defending yourself. I was just across the hall and didn’t do anything, I wasn’t even paying attention, and I hope you accept my sincerest apologies.” He paused, waiting for my response. 

“I didn’t blame you for a second, Sebastian, you know that,” I said quickly, kicking myself for how condescending it might’ve sounded. But he continued, not acknowledging it if he had noticed. 

“I know what the possible punishments are, as well. And I was prepared to bend every rule in the book to save you from them, as we haven’t yet discussed how to overpower your more dominant, violent side. I, if you’ll consider my opinion, do not think imprisoning you, alone, is a good idea. It will do more harm than good. But, at the same time, if solitary confinement, our more popular choice in these matters, is what you want, I won’t stop you. I’ll only attempt to make it as painless as possible.”

“No,” I rejected, “don’t think you have to treat me any differently, I’ll be okay. I deserve the same, if not worse. as anyone else.” 

“I know,” he said grimly, looking downward, “You’re stronger than even you give yourself credit for. But I know myself, and six plus months away from you will concern me every second of every day until your release.” 

I choked on my words, focusing so hard on my rebuttal that I was taken by surprise by his words, thus being shocked into silence.

“Wow...” Grell floundered for words, only coming up with that. So much for his silence. 

“Wow indeed,” I said aloud. Sebastian made a half confused- half disappointed face, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I rapidly apologized, picking up on what I’d done wrong, “I didn’t think I’d say that out loud--”

“You know if you keep acknowledging him, he’ll never leave you alone,” he hesitated, weighing the pros and cons of what he wanted to do, before taking both of my hands and stopping me from picking my nails, “I know it’s hard,” he said, looking at me with a sad smile, “but I know you can do it. Don’t take his suggestions. Only do what you believe is right. Within reason, of course.” 

“That’s cute, you’re not going to do that, of course, we’re a team, right? Thick as thieves in Thebes, right?” Grell reassured himself, trying to hide the panic in his voice. 

“I’ll try… I’ll do my best,” I said. Sebastian’s sad smile grew a smidgen brighter. But Grell’s panic turned to enraged disbelief. He, in his visible, metaphysical form, stomped into the room, fire in his eyes and gnashing sharp teeth. 

“Excuse me? You can’t ignore me! I own you! I’m a show stopper! The only thing that makes my beautiful Bassy attracted to you in the first place is me!” If I didn’t know better, I’d find his temper tantrums annoyingly amusing, like if you’ve just discovered your new puppy has peed on the carpet. But I did know better. And I knew he was one push away from destruction. I must’ve looked like a deer in headlights. 

“Ciel, look at me,” Sebastian said. When I didn’t respond right away, he moved his hands up to my face, turning my gaze away from Grell and straight at himself, “Focus on me, on my words alone, alright? Clear your mind and keep your eyes on me.” He stared intently into my eyes, looming just high enough over me to completely remove Grell from my line of sight. Grell’s yelling quieted considerably when he left my sight, as if someone had placed a damper on him or turned down the volume on a speaker. I relaxed, and slowly my breathing returned to normal. “There you go,” Sebastian encouraged, “see? you’re a natural.” I nodded my thanks, not trusting my voice to do the job to my liking. “Will you stay?” Sebastian asked again, hopefulness replacing the sadness in his eyes. 

“Uh-of course, if you’ll have me,” I responded more concretely. His smile brightened considerably, all signs of sadness had completely vanished. I smiled too, and the room went completely, and pleasantly quiet. Grell had disappeared. Sebastian’s finger’s wove their way through the hair at the nape of my neck, rubbing my scalp and making my exhaustion very very apparent to me. 

“What time is it?” I asked, quickly growing very sleepy as the petting continued. 

“No idea,” he replied, “I should probably get a clock, but, given the quietness of the staff wing, I believe it’s between the hours of six and seven. They all must be in the dining hall.” 

“Wow, is it that late?” I said, not really listening. I was too focused on the tiredness and lethargy spreading through my limbs. I see that this is a serious weakness of mine, and two people know about it already. Hopefully, no one else will. 

Sebastian noticed my wakefulness decreasing as he messed and mussed with my hair. Growing curious, he ceased any and all ministrations, laughing quietly at a frustrated whine that managed to break loose. 

“You’re like a cat,” he mused, “You’re very affectionate when you want to be.”

“I, positively, am NOT like a cat, Sebastian, don’t be silly,” I pouted, crossing my arms like a stubborn five year old, “Now come back here, that felt nice.” He stood from his chair, moving to the bed and making himself comfortable. 

“Come here, if you’re so inclined, little kitten,” laughing at my absolute hatred of pet names, and laughing still when I begrudgingly crawled closer, resting my head on his shoulder. 

“Please tell me you’re not a cat person, you’re just joking right?” 

“Hey,” he exclaimed, pretending to be offended, “there’s nothing wrong with liking cats, they’re awesome!” He raised a hand up and into my hair, lazily messing with it. 

“You would know, crazy cat lady…” I murmured to myself, welcoming the sleepiness that crept through my mind, quieting my fears and worries, leaving only a pleasant, warm, hum. 

“Are you falling asleep?” Sebastian asked quietly, knowing the answer before he even spoke. 

“No,” I sighed, clinging to him anyway. I slipped further and further into a comfortable state of unconsciousness, not unrelated to the dreamless sleep I’d had the night I’d murdered my aunt, strangely enough. Or was it not strange at all? Maybe I was meant to be a killer. Even if that was my dismal vocation, I wouldn’t bear it. Not unless that skill became useful to Sebastian, which it never would. I’d never felt so drawn to another before, like I could give up everything I care about and still be happy. What was that called, is there even a way to articulate it? 

I fell into a heavy immovable sleep, so sound I didn’t feel Sebastian remove himself from me, repositioning me on his bed, alone yet comfortable. I didn’t feel him peck my cheek and whisper “I’ll be right back,” nor hear him exit the room. 

But I did feel the cold, stealing my comfort little by little, rousing me just enough to hear that accursed voice. 

“Now, let’s talk about the grave mistake you’ve just made, hmm?” Grell said, a low, angry growl playing in the back of his throat, like an evil purr. “Perhaps seeing your beloved’s true nature might help you see where your loyalties lie.” 

The billions of flecks of colour behind my eyes gradually faded away, before leaving me in an intense, pervading darkness. Have you ever turned on your television, yet the screen was black? You can tell it’s on by the ever-so-slight amount of animation, life, on the screen. Then you turn it off entirely and all of that barely there animation ceases to exist. All of those miniscule colours and shapes die, leaving you in a prominent darkness, wondering where to go from here. 

“Perhaps he’s not the person you think he is.” 

I sank slowly, getting faster as I became more dense than the surrounding darkness, deep into the belly of my worst fears and vivid imagination. I knew this would be the single most terrifying nightmare I’d ever experience. All because Sebastian wasn’t by my side, and I could do nothing but wait for the torment to begin.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oooh, it get's a little intense in this chapter, folks. actually had to rewrite parts of it to make it less graphic. it still might be a little too much, but i tried. 
> 
> ((also very unedited, my wifi is being ridiculous so i'm posting this now and i'll fix it after work ^_^))

I could feel the hair at the nape of my neck stand on end. I stood, paralyzed, in the center of a dark room, slowly filling with the smell of melting wax and burning hair. I could hear the aggressive rumble of fire beyond this room. Unbearable heat seeped through the walls, pervading the air with a dank, sickening stench; burning flesh. All at once, I started towards the door, approaching it quickly and trying desperately to pry it open. It seemed to be held shut by some unknown force outside the door. 

“Let me out!” I cried, not actually certain that I was even _in_ at all. Memories of that night pulled hot, frantic tears from my eyes. I’d been trying to get _in_ that night. Was I in their shoes now, or is someone else I love on the other side of this door? I pressed my face to the wood, feeling the furious inferno just on the other side. I strained to hear any sort of movement, not knowing whether to hope for another or pray I’m alone. “Hello,” I asked tentatively, testing my theories. 

“Yes?” three dissimilar voices answered in unison. The eerie calmness in these voices sent a shiver down my spine. Here I was, safe-- for now-- from the fires of my fate, and three others I couldn’t place suffered its wrath in my place; yet _I_ was the one suffering. My heart beat in my chest harder than I’d ever imagined, I stumbled over my own breaths, I trembled and shook and quaked with a fear only those close to death would ever know, but _I am fine._ It’s those behind this door that should feel this way. 

“Who’s there?” I questioned, for lack of any better plan. I held myself up with the doorframe, gripping it so tightly my knuckles turned white. 

“It’s us, Ciel, your friends,” Hannah and Alois answered together in an ominously calm monotone, very uncharacteristic of the two of them. 

“And I as well,” Sebastian chimed in. I was still for a moment before violently tugging on the door again. Smoke oozed lazily into the room, yet dissipated in the air as quickly as it came. It seemed like the room I was in wasn’t to be harmed, and the one opposite the door was doomed. 

“Come in here, Sebastian,” I cried, struggling with the door, “you’ll die. The lot of you will burn if you don’t.” Something moved on the other side of the door, the keyhole emitting a small ray of orange light. I froze. Part of me wanted to peer through it, confirm their presence, but I couldn’t move. I stared at the glimmer of light, unable to do anything at all. 

“You’ve chosen this fate for us, Ciel,” Sebastian said, though the sound of his voice did calm my nerves, the words he chose left a sour taste in my mouth. 

“I what..?” 

“You wanted us all in one place,” Hannah spoke, “You said you loved us and wanted us to be happy, so you sent us all to be with your family.” 

And suddenly, everything came together. Maybe this was a good idea. This world is a cruel and foul place, and though I don’t consider Alois Trancy in particular as a _friend_ , if Claude treats him the way he treats me, he deserves better. But why would they leave me here?

“I’m coming with you, open the door,” I requested, making my decision to die alongside them. 

“As you wish,” 

The door swung open with a blast of foul smelling heat, and the first thing I saw was Sebastian’s eyes. Normally cheerful, slightly shy, brown eyes now glowed a ferocious red. A smug fire burned behind them, a feline smirk took the place of his lopsided smile… _my_ lopsided smile. He seemed taller, thinner, paler, barely resembling Sebastian at all. Only his voice remained the same. 

“Come in,” he beckoned, drawing me in with the sound of his voice. I stepped forward, not completely of my own volition, gazing into his maliciously red eyes. He held out a hand, willing me forward, laughing quietly when I took it. The moment our palms met, my skin hissed, instinctively pulling away. Sebastian’s hand glowed an unnerving red, emanating it’s own, powerful heat. 

“Did you just burn me?” I asked dumbly, staring down at my hand. I heard that same, low, menacing laughter, and pulled my eyes up to him. 

He smiled a wide, cat-like grin, eyes burning into mine. Hannah and Alois stood beside him, staring blankly in my direction. They didn’t blink, didn’t flinch, didn’t breathe in their catatonic state. They simply stared, like soulless statues meant for decoration and nothing more. 

“What are you waiting for? Don’t you want to join us?” Sebastian taunted. His quiet, even voice cut through the chaotic sounds of burning, sounding, to me, clear as day. I took a step closer, but froze at his triumphant laughter, I dared not get any closer. Sebastian shrugged, “suit yourself, we’ll get started without you.” He turned to Hannah, brushing hair out of her face and revealing her empty eye socket. I watched in horror as her hair succumbed to Sebastian’s unnatural, ethereal heat, quickly catching fire and offering no resistance. Sebastian watched happily as the flames crawled up her hair to lick her cheeks, and repeated his actions with Alois, whose hair burned much much quicker. 

“W-What’s happening…”

“Come with us, Ciel,” the two of them said, seemingly unaware of the fire making quick work of their faces, forming angry, bubbling blisters across their cheeks and down their necks. 

“I’m following through with the _arrangements_ , just like I’d promised,” Sebastian’s smugness fed on my terror, revelling in my helplessness. Heat rose in this room, growing to unbearable exponents. I poured with sweat and heaved ragged, unsatisfying breaths. I couldn’t move. My legs felt as if they were bolted to the floor, forcing me to stay. My eyes were riveted to the horror before me, forcing me to watch as my friends, the first people I’ve ever actually _cared_ mind... tainted for too long by my toxic conscience, perverted by my overarching disdain for mankind, **_Couldn’t Get Enough Of It…_**

Sebastian watched me as he took hold of Hannah and Alois. His touch alone left a searing pain, hotter than fire, and with a hiss and a few tendrils of smoke, his hold on them had burned through their flesh, right to their _bones!_ Still, they stared, unperturbed, in my direction, looking but not seeing. 

“Stop!” I cried, “You’re hurting them!” 

“But do you really care?” Sebastian asked, raising an eyebrow. All words rushed out of me, knocking the air right out of my lungs. I retched, doubling over, gasping for breath. 

“H-How… Of course I care!” I screamed.

“But honestly, do you want them to be unharmed? Or do you wish it was _you_ doing the hurting?” I gaped, wide-eyed at his question, or perhaps, his ultimatum. My gaze drifted to Hannah and Alois, slowly melting away. Tufts of hair and charred skin floated through the air all around us, paired with the glow of the fire consuming the walls, it gave the room a dreamy, blissful effect. Hannah’s tanned face had gone red, riddled with burst capillaries and bulging blisters. Alois’ once flawlessly pale complexion was rapidly blackening, skipping over the bloody pustules phase almost entirely. And through it all, their eyes… they’re blue, emotionless eyes stared blankly, completely unaffected by the wrath of the flames quickly swallowing their bodies. 

“It’s… it’s beautiful…” 

“Isn’t it?” Sebastian asked, “We’re very alike, Ciel. We were born from fire, thrive in destruction, find death beautiful, and think the hopeless, muffled screams of our victims are the sweetest of songs. This is the real reason I’m so drawn to you. There’s nothing more alluring than insanity. How I wish to lock you in a box and watch your mind, your personality, your sense of self, decompose… just like your friends.” Sebastian released Hannah and Alois, and they collapsed in a heap of lifeless limbs. He held out a hand, insisting I take it, “How about it then? Will you let me study you? Pull you apart and put you back together? Turn you into a young killing machine, foaming at the mouth, and barely recognizing his own name? Or will you continue to pretend you have any hope of returning to a boring, functional member of society?” 

“Sebastian..,” I whimpered, taking a few steps back, stepping into the previous room, the one unaffected by the fire, “Where am I…” I asked myself. 

_**“Hell.”**_ he growled, impatiently grabbing my shoulders. I wailed as Sebastian’s self sustaining inferno burned deep into my arms. “You’re living on borrowed time, Ciel,” he growled, lifting me high off the ground, “those who live on borrowed time owe their lives to whomever gave it to them. And what they giveth, they can taketh away.” My eyes brimmed with horrified tears. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t think, I couldn’t do anything but pray for the end. Death is the only salvation, the only way to make the pain stop. I wondered how my parents must’ve felt… Did they hurt? Did they fight, or did they let go, waiting for death to take them. My mother, Rachel, was very passive. She must’ve just let it happen. My father, Vincent, stayed alive just long enough to make sure I’d live. My friends are dead… there’s no one to stay alive for. So I should do the same as Mother. I sobbed in pure, unadulterated, primal agony. I blinked hot tears from my eyes, briefly noticing Sebastian’s eyes. They’d changed…

They were _green…_

“Sebastian…?” I choked out between agonized sobs. I heard muffled demonic laughter as the world around me faded to black. 

I felt something soft brush my face, much cooler than the dry heat all around me. I heard a quiet whisper of my name, spoken at full volume, but so distant that I could barely hear it. 

_Father..?_ I thought, definitely recognizing the voice, like I’d heard it just moments ago. 

“Ciel..? Ciel, wake up…” 

_Wake up?_ I was confused, why would he want me to wake up? Couldn’t he tell how much I miss him? How much I actually want this? I’d been empty, a shell, waiting for my death to come and take me to my parents. I shouldn’t be here. I’m so young… I should be fighting with mum over eating my vegetables. I should be learning Latin from dad. I should be impressing them, disappointing them, worrying them. I should be making them proud of me. Oh god, what’s happening? Where am I? What am I doing? Why was I left alone? 

_Dad, please, take me with you… I miss you more than I can take._

“Open your eyes…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also, i have an outline of exactly where im going with all of this, but due to some comments and other ideas i have, i might either scrap my first ending and make this story into a chronicle of ciel's time at the madhouse, OR, keep the ending and write alternates, still adding to this as a series, OR, keeping the ending and continuing on as a different character. id love your thoughts! thank you vulture for commenting and prompting me to discuss this with all of yous!


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo yo! next chapter! greetings folks! this marks where ciel starts to get very reference-y. so i'll be citing the sources down below! love you all!!!!!!!!! (ps. there's a small small small hint as to what my newest otp is! whoever finds it gets a goldstar!)

I shot up bolt upright, breathless and wide eyed. The room swirled in a blurry tango of lights and sunspots clouding my vision. It was just a dream, a horrible, terrifying dream. But it made me realize that I _really am losing my mind._ Grell, my conscience, the manifestation of my insanity, he wasn’t there. He made no appearances like he usually does. _I_ created that reality and I thought it was _beautiful._ I felt sick to my stomach, horrified at what I was becoming… 

“No…There’s no way...God Damn it!” I cursed, disappointed tears rolled down my cheeks and I did nothing to stop them. 

“Ciel?” 

“What!?” I screamed, wallowing in my misery. Flashes of fire, startled me still behind my eyelids. I could still see the burnt up bodies of my friends, reduced to crumbled up heaps of ash that once operated together to sustain lives. I saw Sebastian’s eyes, perhaps the most terrifying detail of them all, how they burned with evil amusement. My fear and anguish fueled that demonic heat. I could still feel that heat, boring deep into me, burning up my will to go on faster than the death of my parents had. 

“And it was _beautiful…_ ” I whined out loud. 

“You had a nightmare,” I looked up to see who decided testing me was a good idea. Sebastian, the _real_ Sebastian-- with all his accidental charisma and hidden awkwardness-- stood at my side, placing two teacups on the nightstand. I stared, frightened, for a moment, remembering how he’d looked in my nightmare, like he’d rip me apart and sing while he did so. He stared back, seeing my fright but not understanding, and wanting to help. 

“I’m sorry for leaving, but I--” he started, but he cut himself off when he missed the nightstand with one of the teacups, it sat precariously before gravity got the better of it. Without looking, he caught the very edge of the saucer just underneath the cup itself, bringing it to rest safely without spilling a drop, “I knew I’d be quick, there’s not much food left but there’s an endless supply of Earl Grey. It’s the best I can offer.” 

“Nice catch,” I said stupidly, lacking any real response. Nightmare aside, Sebastian had left for tea and came right back, with some for me as well. No one’s ever really done that for me, and though thoughts of him killing me still play in my mind, I couldn’t overlook the kindness of this gesture. I felt ashamed for being so rude to him, but I couldn’t stop. Fortunately, he had a good sense of humour, and was very understanding. 

“Thanks,” he replied, “I actually impressed myself quite a bit there, too.” He hopped into the bed beside me before handing me one of the teacups. 

“Wow, thank you,” I said quietly, I don’t remember the last time I’d had Earl Grey. Coincidentally enough, it’s my favourite. 

“You seem familiar with Earl Grey so I’ll save you my tangent about it’s history and what not.”

“If it makes you happy, be my guest,” I said, sampling from my cup. 

“Alright,” he said, putting together his monologue in his mind, “Earl Grey is a black tea created from the bergamot orange, which are mostly found in Italy. Upon adding cornflower blossoms, citrus, or rooibos, variations of this tea have also become popular, those being Lady Grey, Russian Earl Grey, and Red Earl Grey in that order. And of course, the tea was named after the English aristocrat, Charles Grey, 1764 to 1845.” 

“Now, where did you learn that?” I asked, impressed by the brief yet thorough description of my favourite tea. 

“I picked a few things up along the way,” he said, smiling cheerfully, “I worked at a country club when I was a boy, not much older than you, actually.” 

“I might’ve guessed that you were a butler, or something of the sort, my evidence being that nearly miraculous catch and that flawless description.” 

“A butler? Yes, I can see what you mean. You know what they say: when you’re a butler, the room should feel empty with you in it,” he said. How intriguing. 

“That’s quite interesting, now that you mention it…” The room should feel empty. Before I noticed him, I felt like my conscience, my responsibilities, my vengefulness, I thought they would drown me. But upon his arrival, they all disappeared. So, in that way, the room was indeed emptier. “As soon as you came in it’s like my conscience walked right out.” 

“Oh, really?” he said dramatically. I realized what I’d did wrong, and hot embarrassment crept through my cheeks, up my ears, and down my neck.

That sounded bad...” I said stupidly. I seemed to be making that a habit lately, saying stupid things. 

“Maybe just a little bit,” he laughed. I sat quietly, sipping my tea and moldering in my self-created embarrassment. I’m so prone to accidentally making sexual innuendos. Curses. “Aw, Ciel it’s okay,” he said, noticing my suffering, “I know what you meant, don’t think on it.” He reassured me as best he could. Normally, therapists and psychologists approach reassurance from a clinical standpoint, which only infuriates me. He approached it, at least for me, on a human-to-human standpoint, which works wonders. 

“There aren’t many instances where people can ‘pick up’ the history of tea, I must say I’m very impressed,” I said, changing the subject, “Though your tea brewing skills need a little work.” 

“And now you know why I never went into the trade,” he agreed, and like that we were chatting. Chatting is the form of communication I find most interesting. We didn’t say anything important, nor did we purposely lay out our life stories, yet in this idle chatter, I got to know him further. And he got to know me. We discussed music, social media, American politics. We argued over whether or not Star Trek was better than Star Wars, and analysed internet memes. At one point he said, “Y’know, under different circumstances, you could’ve been quite popular,” and when I asked why, he responded with, “you’re smart, wise, and endearingly sad. You would’ve dominated Tumblr in a matter of days.” 

“And what would you have done if you weren’t a psychologist?” I asked. We’d long abandoned our teacups and settled into each other in the bed, comfortable enough to fall asleep but curious enough to stay awake. 

“I don’t know, but I like it here, so I don’t have any regrets.”

“Don’t you get tired of living with loons?” 

“They’re not loons, Ciel, you are not a loon,” he said seriously. I’d made myself at home on his chest, staring at nothing while we talked, but stretched and looked up at him now. “There was a point in my life where I thought I was losing my mind,” he said, “I didn’t see a point in living so I took advantage of people, made bad decisions, dodged bullets, and the list goes on. Then one day I decided I didn’t want to live like that anymore, and I wanted to help people who were in the same spot, and that evolved into working with people that actually _were_ ‘round the bend and wanted desperately to be normal. Naturally, I felt disgusted with my behaviour and this job, to me, is the best way to give back.” 

“That’s beautiful…” I mused. I admired his dedication, and honestly, I’m glad he chose this vocation. People need people like him in their lives. They need to feel like they matter, and Sebastian was definitely a man who treated everyone like they were real human beings, not just mental trash. 

“Ciel, may I ask about you nightmare? If you can’t tell me what happened exactly, can you tell me what conclusions you’ve come to about it?” There was something about the way he asked. It’s no doubt the wee hours of the morning, he hasn’t asked me a single therapeutic question since I showed up. He wanted to know because he wanted to help me, as a person and not as a patient in a mental institution. 

I thought about telling him. I thought about telling him that it was _he_ who set Hannah and Alois ablaze. He who set _me_ ablaze. I almost did before I remembered one small detail. At the end of the nightmare, his eyes turned green. I couldn’t place them when I first saw them, but the memory of their colour, shape, and expression reminded me of exactly whose they were. 

They were Grell’s.

His green eyes looked up at me as I burned, not Sebastian’s. _Of course, how had I not seen this before!_ I thought. Just before the dream, Grell _told_ me he’d try to push Sebastian out of my favour. But I didn’t think he’d go as far as having him kill me in my dreams. 

“That son of a bitch,” I growled. Sebastian readjusted a bit, then caught on to my soliloquy. 

“Don’t think you have to share with me, you’re not being held to anything,” he said, excusing me from any inner turmoil he might’ve thought I had. 

“I was _so close,_ ” I said quietly, “so close I could taste the end. I’ve never really thought about my own death before. But coming out of that dream made me realize I want more than anything, to perish in a fire and rejoin my parents. I want to leave this torment…” 

“Oh.” Sebastian said, rather speechless. He looked very disappointed. “If you were to die, I’d be very sad, I hope you know that.” I stared at him, barely seeing him in the darkness of the room, but reading the despair as clear as day. My mind went blank and my hands moved at their own volition. I rose up to press a chaste kiss to Sebastian’s lips, leaving him very surprised, but still vaguely grim. I watched him calmly, seeing no signs of complete disgust and not satisfied, he was still less than happy. I leaned in again, not entirely against my will, though not of my own actions, and kissed him again, lingering there for a moment. Sebastian responded in kind to my less than tentative advancements. Two hands lost themselves in my hair and pulled me upward to meet his lips. 

“You aren’t going to shrink me?” I asked, between adamant kisses, each more earnest than the last. 

“Not tonight,” he said, his voice coming out a little gruffer than I would’ve expected. But my instincts carried on. His nails inadvertently scraped against my scalp, making me sigh. Sebastian, seemingly beside himself, saw the opportunity to deepen the kiss and took it, licking at my lips before taking the time to map out the inside of my mouth. I mewled, caught between fully registering what was going on and the sleepy calmness that clouded my brain, thanks to the hands in my hair. 

As the position grew more and more uncomfortable, Sebastian moved his hands to my waist, lifted me up, and repositioned me to straddle his hips. By now, we were in a frenzy of lips and tongues and hands. Our faces went pink from lack of oxygen. I couldn’t help but note the fact that I started this. But did I, really? Or was this the consequence of my conscience’s boredom? I was-- admittedly-- a happy victim of actions performed _by_ me, but their purpose wasn’t mine. What I know now is that I’m in control of myself once more, and can absolutely get used to this. 

My shorts had ridden up at some point in the change of positions and now rub unpleasantly against my mostly healed legs. Sebastian’s hands had ridden a little lower on my waist as he loosened his grip. He ran his tongue over the roof of my mouth, making me shudder and grip tightly to his shoulders. An excited heat churned deep in my belly, not completely unfamiliar, but still, I was a tad confused. I’d never thought to relate it to anything positive or _pleasurable_ , but that shows how much I really know about these things. I soon found out, through no fault of my own, that we were on the same page. My curiosity got the better of me-- again, no true fault of my own-- causing me to ‘reposition’ myself a little tighter to him. My lungs screamed for air, however, forcing me to disconnect from his lips. Sebastian peppered kisses from my jawline and down my throat, his grip tightening on my hips and sending me into a clouded haze of blurred movement and wandering hands. 

Sebastian’s lips traveled ever downward, reaching my shoulder. I could only sigh, holding on tightly to his shirt. But when Sebastian’s lips traced across the forgotten bite, the fog cleared and fear shot through my spine. I called out to him breathlessly, but my voice refused to cooperate. I pulled at the hair at the nape of his neck, but he growled and scraped the wound with his teeth and tightened his grip on my hips even further.

“Sebastian, stop,” I whined weakly, “Let me go.” He couldn’t hear me, he was lost in his own fog. I took a deep breath and cried, “Please, stop this and let me go,” loud enough that the tenant of the next room might’ve been able to hear, but ambiguous enough to not let on what we were up to. My voice penetrated the primitive fog in his mind, releasing him and returning his wits and inhibitions. His eyes darted up to mine, freezing for a moment before pulling his hands away. To my horror, I stared at him for an endless moment believing he was _Claude._ I blinked, willing the mental images away and silently reassuring myself that it wasn’t actually him.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered as I climbed off of him and hid behind my hair. He ran a hand through his, cursing quietly. “I really am, I don't… I don’t know what came over me.” He glanced in my direction, but I didn’t see it. I’d already buried my face in my knees, Having brought them up to my chest moments ago. 

“Banquo is buried, he cannot come out on’s grave…” I whispered, willing away a panic attack. Sebastian spoke not, listening quietly to me desperately trying to calm myself. “Yet who would’ve thought the man had so much blood in him…?” I whispered, failing miserably. I saw his face behind my eyelids. Every time I blinked a new reminder of that grizzly murder, each more horrible than the last, appeared. “And here is the smell of blood still…” I fended off tears, refusing to cry _again_. I’ve cried more in the past few days than I ever have in all my life. Yet still, I covered the bite on my shoulder with my hand, remembering how it had come about. 

“Lady Macbeth…” Sebastian said quietly. I looked up, he sent me a small smile, “Macbeth, William Shakespeare.” I ran the back of my hand over my eyes and sat up straight. 

“I’m sorry,” I said, “I was--”

“Caught off guard,” we both said in unison, Sebastian nodded, “It’s okay,” he said, “So was I.”

“Thank you. For stopping, I mean,” millions of thoughts flashed across Sebastian’s face. 

“Of course. I’d never put you in a situation you weren’t comfortable with, and if I do, it’s not my intention. For that I apologize.” I knew telling Sebastian it wasn’t his fault wouldn’t change his mind. I wanted to tell him it was okay, but that simply wouldn’t be effective enough. 

“Apology accepted,” I said. It’s important to accept the apologies you’re given, instead of saying ‘it’s okay’. Saying that implies that no faults were made, and they’re welcome to repeat the offense, while ‘apology accepted’ means, ‘you did something wrong, and if you never do it again, I accept your repentance’. That is the type of answer Sebastian was looking for. I could see a quick, relieved smile cross his face, putting me at ease as well. 

“It must be late,” he said, “I should probably invest in a clock, shouldn’t I.” I lazily looked about the room, noticing the absence of any time tellers. 

“Mhm…” I hummed, crawling back into Sebastian's embrace, fully exhausted. He leaned over and kissed the top of my head before settling in himself. 

“Goodnight, Ciel.”

“Night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Banquo's buried..." Lady Macbeth: Act 5, Scene 1, Page 2; Macbeth, William Shakespeare


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oi mates! i’m truly sorry for the wait 3: but this chapter is longgggg so i hope yous accept my compensation! some of you will be pleased to know that is is indeed going be become a series! thank you all so much for dealing with me and my silliness!

Weak rays of grey, unintimidating light oozed lazily from the window sill. A frostbitten, depressing fog -- not unlike heavy, foreboding storm clouds and how they prophecize the coming rain-- slowly dripped down, painting everything a dull, dark grey. And here is where I start to stirr in my sleep, safe and warm in my own perfect world, contrasting my gloomy life, my empire, with colors and songs and joyfulness. And I, for all practical purposes bereft of life as I should know it, remained in my place, understandably unwilling to sacrifice my sugarplums to a cold, unforgiving mourning. After all, how dare I subject myself to such a crippling loss of comfort? 

More and more as the seconds went by, glowing, grey sludge flooded my room, creating immense, stagnant puddles of wakefulness, all the while growing thicker and more pronounced. Pervading the space about me, the small pools grew into a full scale sea, warning my sleepy, empty shell of a physical being--long since forgotten and abandoned by my much more mobile, exploring mind-- of the impending day, drawing nearer and nearer to commencement. A silent alarm sounded and resounded, sending terror-stricken lethargy to retreat up through my limbs, rousing me from the tips of my toes, upward. 

Suddenly, yet all at once, consciousness coaxed my brain to reunite with my body. And here I awoke, still for an infinite moment, --frozen in the same primitive mindset as my ancestors-- before my memories, habits, dispositions, and moods rushed back to me, drowning me in grumpiness and discontent. I saw that Sebastian had returned me to my room, leaving me here to awaken alone and unhappy. I groaned, rolling away from the window, into the serenity of darkness, willing the peacefulness back into my bones with futile effort. 

I awoke to the sound, or lack thereof, of calm silence. I felt the coldness known only to the singular and lonely. I sat up, draping my legs over the side of my bed, and rubbed my eyes. Today is the day, before too long I’ll be gathered up and thrown into a small, dark room, forgotten, never to be seen until the moment of my release. My heartbeat slowed, and an accepting calm pervaded my mind. Even breaths disturbed the peacefulness, but discounting that, the room was quiet, too quiet for a room that was normally inhabited by two people. Even in sleep, I could usually hear Alois make content, dreamy hums. But there were no sounds to be heard apart from mine and the sleepy mumblings of my conscience.

“Alois?” I called. The sheets on his bed, rumpled from lack of enthusiasm while making them, remained in their place. The spirit of Alois radiated from his objects, the warmth of his life force was indeed present, but his physical being had been relocated. I understood. Sebastian had moved me, eliminating any evidence of my extended stay. Alois must’ve been moved to a different room, eliminating the chances of any accidental, violent happenings. I can imagine Alois knowing of the nature of my relations with Sebastian, I’d like to think of him as an ally, vouching for my good character as well as turning a blind eye to any rule-breaking that might ensue. Of course, I wasn’t 100% sure, and wouldn’t place my fullest trust in him. Still, I do believe him to be a good friend. 

The sad, grey light of day that flooded my room began to brighten into a sort of cheerful blue, accompanied by the chirping of sparrows close by. Grell remained dormant, waiting for more witnesses before he began today’s trouble-making. He gave me time to appreciate the early morning, as if he knew how rewarding it feels. This was my last chance, my last privilege before I served the consequences of the previous day’s actions, my last moments to simply live and enjoy the little beauties of the mundanity of dawn. What a gift, and it warmed me to realize that my conscience had given it to me, the quietness that best compliments waking up. 

“It’s a lovely morning,” I said aloud, gazing out the window by my bed, “wouldn’t you think?” 

“I figured you’d want some silence before you’re stuck alone with me,” he said smugly, “think of this as the calm before the storm.” 

“Thank you,” I sighed, I had guessed he’d pull me apart once we were alone. The thought of being alone with my thoughts did frighten me, but I had plenty of time to worry about it later. 

Voices chatted idly in the corridor, quickly approaching my room. I sat quietly and waited for all of the officials, council members, security guards, or whoever decided to attend my sentencing. Tanaka was the first to enter, flashing me a sad smile and a few puffs of disheartened laughter. I returned his smile, grateful to see a familiar face before being bombarded with questions, insults, and accusations; another little gift. Sebastian, followed closely by a stranger, joined Tanaka on Alois’ side of the room, leaving a grand total of three. I must say, I was a little surprised-- but not unpleasantly so-- by the turn out, expecting many more people to be involved. I supposed all that would really be necessary is a few strong individuals to guide me, as well as an unbiased third party to give witness. 

“Lovely morning, isn’t it, gentlemen?” I greeted, moving slowly. I stood at the side of my bed, marking the divide between ‘us’ and ‘them’, some 6 metres of separation. 

“Indeed it is,” the stranger spoke up, a wide, haughty smile spreading across his face. He seemed to be the flamboyant type, arguably in the same fashion as Grell, just understanded. He wore white, complimenting his overall fairness of skin and hair and eyes-- contrasting the darkness of Tanaka and Sebastian, who stood grimly at either side of him. He simply secreted an oily cockiness, irritating and inflaming everything he touched like poison ivy, or an allergic reaction. I stepped up to the strange, obnoxious man, invading his personal space. He didn’t seem to mind-- or even notice-- but Tanaka and Sebastian shrank, agreeing to each other that they should probably stay out of any advancements I would make, stepping in only when necessary. 

“And who might you be, Sir?” I asked politely, raising my right hand to shake. He seemed impressed with my manners, assuming a young teenager might lack the maturity to communicate properly.

“To be so small, yet so articulate. I haven’t spoken to you for five minutes, and I can tell you possess a deep brilliance, a very attractive trait, little robin,” He took my hand, looking up at me and kissing my knuckles. “Aleister Chamber, it’s my pleasure to make your acquaintance, Young Phantomhive.” I swiftly swatted his face with my unbusied hand, connecting with his jaw with a loud, sudden crack. He gave a surprised yelp, removing himself entirely.

“Were you not briefed on your duties here today, Mr. Chamber?” I asked indifferently, not bothering to give any sort of physical reaction besides an unamused, condescending stare. Tanaka and Sebastian stood still, too shocked to do anything. 

“What?--”

“I, a mentally distressed _child_ , had painted the walls with someone’s brain just yesterday for doing, more or less, what you’ve just done. Had no one told you, or are you really that thick? I must say, I really don’t take much pleasure in knowing you were the one chosen to send me to my extended time-out, if you will. I was hoping my last moments of civilization wouldn't be spent setting a shithead like you straight.” I suspect the last line was of Grell’s design. I wouldn’t normally go so far, but when in Rome. 

“Excuse me?” Chamber gasped melodramatically, whipping about to see the reactions of the other two, who quietly watched, “You can not speak to me like that. _You_ approached _me!_ I--”

“Alright, that’s quite enough of that, Aleister,” Sebastian chimed in, “We all have a job to do, yours was described to you before you accepted. Please understand this, admit your faults, and apologize for your advancements.” Chamber pouted, angrily turning toward me.

“My apologies…” Chamber said quietly, rolling his eyes and trying to piece together his ego. 

“Satisfactory?” Sebastian said, looking disappointed with me. 

“Apology acknowledged and denied, live with the guilt,” I replied, dismissing the conversation in favour of getting on with today’s work. “Shall we?” I asked, shifting the attention to Sebastian, who nodded and lead the rest of us out of the room. We walked silently, Sebastian and Chamber leading the way, I in the middle, and Tanaka following close behind. We passed through hallway after hallway, eventually making our way through the labyrinth of corridors to the staff side of the house. At the end of the dormitory hall, we came to an unassuming door, easily forgotten to those who don’t know where it leads. Tanaka had found his way ahead of us, unlocking a door we’d come to and revealing a steep flight of stairs. Contrasting the ornate finish of the rest of the house, this flight of stairs was unfinished, serving it’s purpose and not much else. 

“We’ll be moving you to the secondary facility below the manor,” Sebastian explained, looking straight ahead, down the stairs, and assuming I was listening, “In your case, there will be no allowance of personal belongings, no visitors, and no leniency. You’ll remain in incarceration until September 20th of next year, provided nothing goes wrong, June 20th if things run smoothly, and your time will be extended if any major happenings occur.” He did look back towards me at this point, I knew it was meant to convey that he’d find a way to provide as much or as little as I needed, he was only reciting when he has to, for the books. 

“Nine months!? We’re getting stuck in a padded cell for nine months?!” Grell hissed.

“Only six if you promise to behave,” I thought out loud. 

“It’s not me you can control,” he grumbled, “you’ll just have to learn to take what I give you. There’s no way you can keep me from getting bored, simply no way at all.”

“It sounds to me like you’re complaining,” I chastised, “After all, this _is_ your fault, congratulations, you get to suffer the consequences, too.” Grell huffed, seeming to have bitten off more than he can chew. There was a time where I’d felt the same, but I’d accepted my fate long ago. It seems Grell hadn’t gotten that far. 

“Who on earth are you talking to,” Chamber interrupted, confused and out of the loop. I caught Sebastian rolling his eyes, completely out of his understanding character. I hid my smile. I too, had similar sentiments. 

“May I continue,” Sebastian asked, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible. 

“Of course,” I said. I was fine, ready for my punishments. But to Sebastian, this time away from me-- just the _prospect_ of it hurt him. And though I thought _I_ was ready, I didn’t factor in how he would feel. “It’ll be over before you know it,” I added, disguising my reassurances as a mantra for my own well being. Sebastian knew it was to put him at ease and he took it in that way, relaxing the smallest bit. I took his hand in mine, and proceeded down the stairs, down into the second, more appropriate facility for the title ‘sanitarium’. 

“Hey, how is that fair--” Chamber protested, soon to be interrupted by a firm hand on his shoulder. Tanaka huffed his amused laugh, exchanging a knowing look with me. I suppressed the urge to stick my tongue out at him. Grell, feeling the same urge, quietly agreed that that might not be the best course of action. I settled for enjoying the triumph and keeping my face neutral. 

After a change of formation with Sebastian and I leading the way, we made our way down the stairs into a blindingly white hallway. I had to squint my eyes to ease the discomfort of adjusting. It was _hot._ The manor above us moaned and sighed cold, Mid-December drafts like nobody’s business, but this place burned with it’s own foreboding hellfire. The brightness of the walls greyed after a few moments, feeling vastly empty and radiating loneliness. The sharp contrast of Sebastian’s attire, as well as his mood, felt warm and safe. And I discovered just how much I would miss it. 

“Tanaka has a temporary room on the same floor, and he will be providing for you.,” Sebastian went on, approaching a small alcove, a concave entrance just before the door to my punishment, on the end of the hall, “He’ll be around every two weeks to cut your nails, in addition to daily for food and water. He is the only human contact you’ll have, no exceptions.” Sebastian gave me another knowing look, telling me he’d probably be breaking that rule as well as the ‘no leniency’ and ‘nine months’ rules.

“Cut her nails? That’s very specific,” Chamber mused, earning himself more eye rolls and disrespect. 

“I hope you’re not confused, Mr. Chamber,” I said, fed up with the ignorance, “last time I checked, I was a _boy._ If you’re looking for the androgynous type I suggest seeking out my roommate. He would enjoy your challenge, he seems to attract the ‘peacocking type’.” Tanaka’s trademark laugh bounced off the walls and down the hallway. Even Sebastian couldn’t suppress a small smile. Chamber was speechless and turning red at the speed of sound. 

“Well, to answer your question, Aleister,” Sebastian replied, getting back on topic, “Ciel has had incidents in the past where he’s harmed himself with his fingernails. To prevent that from happening again, Tanaka will be trimming his nails.” 

“Ciel,” Chamber mused, rolling my name around on his tongue, “a lovely name.” He held out his hand, keeping his face straight. A peace offering, an olive branch. I took it, giving him a strong shake. 

“Thank you, Sir,” I said, “It’s French. It means ‘Sky,’ or loosely, ‘from Heaven’. Though, I think we can agree that I’m no godsend.” I gave a small laugh, sounding more forced than I’d wanted it too. Sometimes I wish I was different, the cherub my parents imagined I’d turn out to be. But without them, I’ve turned into this shell, a grotesque, vague representation of my innermost thoughts. Remembering my name, given to me by my parents, and it’s significance, dug its claws into me. The sharp fangs of disappointment sank into my heart, and all my pride and faux-confidence bled out. Chamber noticed, seeing me sag inward, watching my eyes die a bit. 

“Well, your parents believe you are, that’s why they named you that. Remember that when you feel sad.” He smiled, giving my hand another small shake. He’d chosen his words carefully, meaning exactly what he said. They believe in me, right this very moment. He straightened, and followed Tanaka as they departed. Tanaka paused, letting Chamber ahead of him and looking expectantly at Sebastian.

“I’ll only be a moment,” he dismissed Tanaka, willing him to keep Chamber occupied elsewhere. A hot fog settled over us, I could feel a strange heat build up around my heart. I stayed silent, sorting through thoughts and emotions but quickly falling behind. 

“Will you miss me?” Sebastian asked. He stood apart from me, keeping his voice down. He kept his eyes cast down, desperately trying to hide his sudden vulnerability. His voice, deep and deeper still with melancholy, beckoned me to look up at him. _’Will you miss me?’_ Why would he even think to ask such a question? 

“Yes,” I replied quickly and certainly, staring at him with his guard down. He, usually the picture of strength and composure, now looked sad and lost. I, seeming to have a breakdown every hour on the hour, couldn’t stand to see him like this. It shook free feelings I wasn’t used to, feelings that added to the violent storm gathering in my head, and I didn’t like it. 

“I’ll miss you too,” he said. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing his nerves away, eyes darting about the bay we stood in, safe from Tanaka and Chamber. The door to our separation stood between us, breathing it’s own hot, menacing breath down our necks. He wanted to say so much, the desperation flashed across his eyes, but no words would come. 

“It’ll be over soon,” I tried to reassure him. I worried my lip between my teeth. The panic of mal preparedness shot through my nervous system. My once levelheadedness has been shot all to hell. He was my strength, and he was slipping, therefore I was slipping. He smiled crookedly and halfheartedly, bleeding defeat and loneliness. Guilt filled my lungs, choking me, making me cough. I did this. If I hadn’t overreacted yesterday, we would both be okay. Oh, how I needed him to be okay. “Please…” I begged, “promise me you’ll be alright.” He smiled again, puffing out a single ironic laugh. 

“You’re a tough one,” he said, “to think that it’s _you_ that’s worried about _me_ being alright.”

“Will you?” I needed him to say yes. If he said yes, I could survive this. I told myself over and over, screaming it at the waves of torment in my mind. He smiled still, ruffling my hair like everyone here feels the desire to do. Though I hated the childish implications, I felt the comfort of contact and couldn’t help but smile with him. 

“I might have to bend the rules,” he lowered his voice even more, “I don’t think I could bear being away from you for so long. I’d worry. I worry now…” His his face fell as he looked over to me, as if he just now fully understood the depth of our bond. His eyes widened for a microsecond, realizing just how long nine months really was. 

Nine months.

Thirty six weeks.

Two hundred and fifty two days.

Six thousand and forty eight hours.

Three hundred and sixty two thousand, eight hundred, eighty minutes. 

Too long. 

And suddenly I felt utterly alone. 

Grell couldn’t suppress an undeniably evil chuckle, thoroughly enjoying the preparations for the hell he’d put me through. A deep-seeded fear of my own mind penetrated my composure, shoving me forward and into Sebastian’s arms. He, not quite understanding, caught me and pulled me close. 

Why? Why didn’t I let him fight for me? I’d thought I could handle it, I suppose, but was it too late to change my mind? I could change. I’d learn to control myself, accept the love I was given. 

“Promise me you’ll be alright,” Sebastian whispered, “Promise me you’ll be the same when you return to me.” Grell let out another dark, foreboding laugh. 

“I promise,” I lied, for both of our sanities. I clung tightly to him, burying my face into his chest. I realized just how safe I feel. Nothing could ever hurt me when Sebastian was near. I could never hurt another when Sebastian was near. I felt calm, collected, like myself. I’ve gone shithouse crazy. And I didn’t even noticed until now, now when I felt whole and peaceful again for the first time in years. 

“I’ll be thinking of you every day,” Sebastian mused. He meant to ease my fright, but managed to frighten me more with the idea that he _could_ forget me. Being forgotten would kill me. If he, or Hannah, or Alois, or anyone forgot about me I’m certain I’d feel it. The lack of thoughts for me would cut me like a thousand knives, draw blood like a thousand hypodermic needles, produce a pain unlike any I’d ever experienced. 

“Don’t forget me,” I whimpered, giving him a final squeeze before releasing him. I suppressed the fear and growing loneliness far enough to regain some level of fake confidence. I turned towards the door to my new room, exhaled, and made for the door. It opened with no fuss, drawing me into it with it’s own living force. It was a small, simple room, furnished with a bed and nothing more. It’s bolted to the floor in the corner of the room, it’s metal frame being the only thing in the room that’s not white, set low to the floor, preventing even the smallest of bodies from hiding beneath it. The walls and floors were padded, any corners or edges were blurred from existence. The only thing that could hurt me in this mental-proof room is myself, and surely Tanaka would stop me before anything major happened… right? I turned back, raking my eyes over Sebastian once more, burning him into my mind. 

“Eyes, look your last…” I sighed to myself. 

“Romeo and Juliet,” Sebastian tied up my quote, smiling the smallest bit to himself, “I’ll see you soon.” He grasped the door, preparing to close, and lock it. I nodded, stepping away from the door. He closed it slowly, maintaining eye contact. The catch in the door clicked shut, followed by an industrial deadbolt locking into place, closing me in. There were two openings in the door, two slots. One slot was built into the center of the door, about fifteen centimeters in height and thirty six across. The other was identical in size and sat lower on the door, perhaps to toss things in without my being near the door at the time. I knelt down, at eye level with the topmost slot. Sebastian lingered still, hesitant to leave. 

“If you should need anything… send for me,” he said, he hovered at the door for another second before turning away and following the others. Before he left me here, to rot alone for the next eight months, six if I’m good, but optimism isn’t a part of my repertoire.

* * *

The first ten days aren’t as hard as I’d expected. Staring at the constant, never ending whiteness for too long at a time _did_ drive me up the wall, but keeping the time seemed to help immensely. I made small tears in the hem of the blanket on the bed every morning. The material was stiff and stuffy, itchy and offered no warmth. It was thick and musty, like it hadn’t been washed in years, but still was so unbearably white. Tearing it up in the place of my sanity seemed acceptable for such a useless square of fabric. 

I stared at the ceiling, at the walls, at my mostly healed legs-- whatever was interesting at the time. Grell remained silent, planning his attack. I knew he’d do _something_ I just didn’t know what or when. At time’s it made me very nervous, but today I decided to try to be friendly. 

“What is it like, being a grim reaper,” I asked, coaxing him into conversation with the subject of himself. 

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” he drawled, “Being a reaper is almost as fun as being beautiful. Almost as challenging as seducing the finest of men. And almost as rewarding as being the conscience of such an easily controlled mind.” His voice dripped with condescending challenge. 

“I’m not easily controlled,” I corrected, “I choose my battles.” 

“Hardly, Ciel. You’re childish and temperamental, easily riled up. You’ll never possess the perfect self control I have.” 

“Perfect self control?” I countered, “Grell, your nose bleeds more than Mairin's does. If your self control were so perfect you wouldn’t have to disappear every time Sebastian talks to us, looks at us, or smiles at us--”

“I can’t help it!!” He wailed, and it all clicked into place. My eyes lit up in sweet epiphany. 

“You _can’t_ be there when he is, can you. He keeps you away.” Everything can change now. I can taste it. I can tell Sebastian, listen to his ideas, learn to battle my rogue conscience when I’m on my own. I won’t even have to worry as long as Sebastian is near. I can be my own person. Think my own thoughts. Learn my own mind.

I’ll be free. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” Grell growled. A high-pitched whining buzzed in my ears, barely audible. I was pissing him off, but I didn’t care. 

“Yes you do!” I continued, “Admit it, there’s a way to beat even you.” The buzzing grew into ringing, shaking my eardrums. Before too long, the constant bombardment of vibrations make my head throb. I knew it was him doing it. He was having a tantrum. “Oh grow up,” I chide, “I’ll make sure you don’t get bored, Grell. Don’t worry. Just admit it, and I’ll drop the subject.” 

“And what on earth would ‘it’ be?” He dared, the ringing swelled. My head pounded, like my brain was throwing itself against my skull, desperate to be free. 

“I’m stronger than you, Grell. When I’m happy, I’m stronger than you.” 

That was a mistake. 

The ringing intensified into a roaring, making me wince and press my palms firmly to my ears. The pressure provided no relief as Grell wailed, “Excuse me!? You doubt my power!?” 

“No! I never said that!” I whined, “Stop this. It hurts!” 

“‘ _Please, it hurts,_ ” he mimicked, “I shan’t. It seems to me like I’ve been too nice to you.” 

“So this is your revenge? A splitting headache? Why can’t we just get along?” I groaned, rolling my eyes as the pounding subsided ever so slightly. 

“Is that a challenge.” It was more of a statement. “You think this is all I have on you?” 

“Grell, I’m sorr--” The words froze in my throat. The details in the walls grew vaguer and vaguer, blurring and desaturating until they were no more. I tried to rub my eyes, but the signals from my brain seemed disconnected to the rest of me, rendering me motionless. As though someone had tied a string to my spine, I stood abruptly. I tried to call out but my lips wouldn’t move. All I could do was listen, and barely watch. 

It was like being underwater, sound is muffled and your vision spins and blurs together. You can’t speak, you can’t breathe, all you can do is bare witness.My body marched, well staggered, to the bed. My hands ripped up the blanket and tore away the section I was using to keep track of the days. 

“What horrid fabric,” a voice scoffed, my voice. I wasn’t speaking, those were not my sentiments being voiced. My eyes pondered the freshly ripped away section of blanket, turning it over in my hands, before shoving it down into my mouth. My throat constricted, despising the foreign object my hands had forced into it. But my esophagus was forced to pass it. It swallowed roughly, twice, before coughing and sputtering. “Definitely the most disgusting thing I’ve ever done,” My voice complained. 

He’d done it. Grell, my mutinous conscience, had overcome my stream of consciousness and stolen my body from me. Me. The narrative and personality titled Ciel Phantomhive, had been pushed aside and forgotten. Nearly forgotten. 

“This’ll teach you,” my voice growled, “Congratulations, Ciel Phantomhive. You’re my bitch.”

* * *

Heavy, feeble footsteps wobbled along, echoing on the tiled floor and padded walls. Nearer and nearer still, they drew. Tanaka, on the first leg of his daily routine, came to me with sustenance and nail clippers, marking yet another two weeks. He was my last chance in keeping time, though I’ve long forgotten just how many two-week-markers have accumulated. On the nights-- or days, or both-- I do sleep, Grell mixed up the number I’d burned into my mind. It could’ve been one, ten, or twenty, and I wouldn’t know. All that is certain is that time was passing by. 

Tanaka finally reached the door, laughing softly to announce his presence, then again, with more confidence, when I waved from within my tomb. He bent at the waist, convulsing lightly with the years he’s lived pushing hard on his back. He opted for kneeling instead, asking for my hands with a gesture. He truly was a man of few words. I knelt beside the door, quietly obeying, accustomed to the act of being declawed for my own good. I thought of Sebastian, of his words particularly on the subject of cats at this time. He’d briefly described his love for cats to me once, even going so far as to point out the similarities I shared with them. Here I am, being fed, cared for, and kept like a house pet. I guess I can see what he meant. 

Tanaka clipped away at my fingernails, unaware of my daydreams. He finished his work, giving my hands a compassionate squeeze. I liked Tanaka, I enjoyed his silent wisdom, teaching me of patience and the value in listening without saying a word. He was very expressive in that way. In that way, he was also like a second father to me. I was like a child who pined for the hand of his parent to keep him safe. I could reach out, and he’d be there to reassure me that I was doing well, succeeding, progressing. How I needed that reassurance. I craved it, yearned for it, especially in this circumstance. 

He released my hands, returning his to his side. I expected him to leave, but he conjured up a small rectangular box, passing it through the threshold of the door and into my hands. The label read, “Main St. Bakeshoppe. Juniper, Hexhamshire.” I held the box, guessing it’s weight and judging the contents based on those deductions. He passed me a small, neatly folded piece of paper, leaving me curious. 

“What is it?” I asked, speaking for the first time in weeks. Tanaka laughed, seeming to say, “I’ll never tell.” I unfolded the paper, more curious as to it’s contents than the box. Paper meant notes meant news from the front. 

“No sense in reading it, Ciel, there’s no one out there more interesting than me.” Grell praised himself like he was so fond of doing whenever others were around. 

“I may be drunk, Miss, but in the morning I’ll be sober, and you will still be ugly.” I growled when I felt Grell tug on the corners of my mind, prodding for entrance. I assumed he was jealous of whomever had written to me. He knew I’d favour the words of any other individual than him. 

“Rude,” he chastised, “You better start being nice to me, you need me after all.” 

“Sometimes I need what only you can provide…” I sighed, using the words of Ashleigh Brilliant. 

“Oh?” he exclaimed, his mood changed from borderline violently jealous to intrigued, “What’s that?” 

“Your absence.” He scoffed. I rolled my eyes. I read the note. 

_Ciel,_

_I miss you. Starting the year without you seemed so horrible, I couldn’t bring myself to join the festivities. I’ve stayed in my room for weeks, wondering how you were doing, but no one will tell me. Sebastian noticed, of course, he always notices. He’s gotten so… uninterested, like nothing really matters to him anymore. Does that make sense? Anyway, he decided to take me to town, get some fresh perspective. We stopped to say hello to Victoria, who wishes you well. We stopped by the bakeshoppe as well, I remembered how much you liked the eclairs. Hopefully we don’t get you in trouble. They said you’d be out by September? Seven more months to go! I hope you’re okay._

_Thinking about you,_

_Hannah._

Words. The first words I’ve seen in ages, two months according to Hannah. The note couldn’t’ve been written too long ago, because here’s a box from the bakeshoppe. I opened it now, staring at the eclair inside. I couldn’t believe it. I _do_ love eclairs, and anything sweet. A light, airy happiness filled all my empty spaces. Words. Words from a friend kept me going. 

“Tanaka,” I said, a smile in my voice, “Thank you, please, please tell her that. And thank _you_ as well. Send my regards.” He laughed, and I did too, releasing my own rendition of Tanaka’s signature exultation.

* * *

I sat deep in the far corner of my room, barely conscious. Bone dry heat burned up any moisture my body could produce before it had the chance to cool me, and before too long, I ceased to sweat. My body had given up. It welcomed the heat, finding it dangerously inviting. I breathed ragged, uneven breaths just deep enough to sustain me, never satisfying me. Grell wouldn’t let me have the satisfaction of a full, rejuvenating breath of air. My lungs itched and burned with every struggled inhalation, cracking and drying like the ever-changing face of the hottest desert. The glass eye residing in my right socket stuck uncomfortably in it’s place. My tear ducts lacked the motivation to carry on with their work, they haven’t moistened my eyes in weeks and eventually, I grew tired of rubbing them into doing what they’re told. I couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. And Grell hummed happily, proud of his work. He owned my movements, my struggles, and my reactions. He controlled me in nearly every sense, and he liked it like that. I was too weak to fight it. 

“Something wicked this way comes…” I mused, unable to come up with my own words as Tanaka approached my room. I noticed this was a loophole in Grell’s control. I couldn’t form my own coherent thoughts in this state, but I could voice the thoughts of others, make it work with my own musings. 

Tanaka knelt at the door, looking to see if I was near enough to hand today’s food ration to me directly. I worked hard to force my muscles into action. I kicked and screamed and gnashed my teeth, but it translated as a weak whimper and a small flex in my shoulders. My body had been firmly planted in this corner, becoming one with it. Soon, I’d bond with this wall and become a permanent resident of this room, never to leave. 

“What’s wrong, Ciel, Darling?” Grell asked, a smirk pulling at the corners of his voice. 

“There… there’s a knocking at the gate…” I managed to say just above a whisper. 

“What are you going to do about it?” he asked. I heard Tanaka make a worried sigh before sliding a tray into my room and standing to leave. 

“Never in the field of human conflict was so much owed by so many to so few,” I called as loud as I could--which isn’t much-- to Tanaka. He hummed a depressed laugh, accepting my thanks, and left the alcove. 

“Aren’t you going to eat? You look a little frail, my boy,” Grell said sweetly, like he cared. Slowly, so slowly, the weight of his rule lifted and free will was returned to my limbs, to my tongue. I wiggled my fingers, my toes, tossed my head, but didn’t dare try to stand. 

“Really…?” I sighed in disbelief. It’s been weeks since I’d had a proper meal, since I’d even been allowed to stand from that spot. 

“Of course,” he chirped, “a growing boy needs his nutrients after all!” Unseen hands pushed and pulled me to a standing position, I let him maneuver me like a rag doll, lacking the strength and confidence to make my own advancements. The hands left me standing feebly in my corner, I eyed the food, the same standard mush they leave for me in the kitchen after meals upstairs. Remnants, scraps, sloppy seconds. My stomach let out a downright agonized groan as my conscience, my master, teased me with the promise of food. 

“Come on, Ciel, I’m not going to do everything for you,” Grell complained, wishing I’d get on with it. 

“What are you playing at…” I asked cautiously, taking a small, hopeful step towards the food tray. 

“Go on… You know you want to. Replenish yourself.” He whispered his words of encouragement, ran his fingers through my hair, willed me forward but didn’t force me. He didn’t push my consciousness out of the way, taking matters into his own hands and leaving me in the dark. He gave me the power to choose. 

And I chose to take the chance. 

I lunged forward, falling to my knees and shoving huge handfuls of cooling brown mush into my mouth. Tasteless and textureless calories slipped down my throat for the first time in days, not satisfying my palette, but bringing me back to life. I was soon covered in the slop, it was all over my hands, on my face, in my hair, spreading with the ferocity of my consumption. Embarrassed shame stood idly in the back of my mind, but it was vastly overshadowed by my need to feed. 

“That’ll be enough of that,” Grell broke the silence, his voice just loud enough for me to hear. I slowed my frantic eating, thinking for a moment that this might’ve been a bad idea. “Are you satisfied?” he asked. 

“I guess…” I replied, tasting my own words for the first time in a long time. I missed my ability to speak for myself. 

“Good.” 

I stood abruptly, dropping the last handfuls of mush I had before my mind went completely blank. My vision clouded and dulled, as if someone had placed a Holga lens over my seeing eye. I breathed easy, felt light, but this was not myself. These were not my actions. 

“Much better, I like you like this, Ciel. I really do wear you well,” Grell grinned, using my voice, using my body. We walked to the back of the room, to the corner opposite of my usual spot. The back right corner of my room was permanently stained with the remnants of my stomach contents, slowly building up into a disgusting, putrid, rotting pile of sickly greenish-brown muck. 

I, the real me, stood under the still waters of my mind, while Grell remained afloat, controlling the tides. I watched from beneath the power of free will, powerless to stop him. I knew what he was doing. This is the norm, and has been for weeks. 

He smirked before opening my mouth wide and shoving two fingers down my throat. As they gently grazed just behind my gag reflex, the first wave of vomit ejected from my stomach, it couldn’t get away fast enough. Knowing that once I get started, I won’t stop until there’s nothing left to vomit, Grell pulled me out of the waters, returning me to my rightful place of consciousness. 

I retched. I gasped for air. I begged for an end. 

“Why won’t you let me eat, it’s only hurting us both!” I whined, retaining the strength to find my own words. I violently hurled up what little food I’d eaten before heaving for stretched minutes afterward. My knees went weak, shaking with the threat of collapsing in a pool of bile and stomach acid, but I willed them to endure. 

“You’re lucky I let you have that eclair,” Grell hissed, bringing on another wave of nausea. I groaned before choking up the last of it, adding to the preexisting build up of ejected food. 

“Please…” I begged, breathless and strengthless, “I’ll do anything… just stop tormenting me.” I sobbed, stabilizing myself on a wall. No tears even dreamed of forming, but the tired woe manifested itself in long, sickly wails. 

“No.”

“Then put me out of my misery…”

* * *

The ceiling lamp flicked just enough to drive me crazy. It’s too bright. It hurt my eyes, kept me awake. The light would go out just enough to get comfortably dark then flicker back to glaringly light, making me flinch. I was so accustomed to gathering dust that I’d flinch at even the smallest of differences, like a flickering light. 

Sometimes I’d yell, sometimes I’d scream. Just to confirm reality. Just to prove that I’m still real, that I haven’t fallen into limbo. I lived in a constant nightmare where I’m tied to this corner. My clavicles, hips, and ribs stuck out at odd angles, nearly visible underneath the thin, pale skin that sheltered them. My hair itched my nose, brushed against my eyelashes, creating that dull pain at their root. Everyone knows it. My spine dug painfully into the wall, or at least I’d assumed there was pain. All feeling has left me.

I simply don’t care anymore. 

Heavy footsteps padded near to my room. Tanaka again, as usual. He, understanding that I’d more often than not, not be near the door, slid a food tray into the bottom slot in the door. I watched indifferently. Grell would let me get up to eat, even egged me on at times, but I knew better. He’d just make me throw it all back up. What an absolutely vile stench it creates, it takes days just to clear out. Sometimes it’s bad enough to make me retch even without eating. 

“Ciel.”

An unfamiliar voice called my name, such a deep and gentle voice.

“I have something for you,” the voice said, Tanaka’s bright white gloves snaked in through the top slot, holding piece of folded paper. Tanaka, the man of few words, believed this was important enough to speak to me. A piece of paper, the smallest, most overlooked item in the common world, broke the routine, and awoke my curiosity. 

“You better not get up, Ciel,” but I was already rolling onto my knees, using every ounce of strength I had to defy him. It’s been countless days of staring at the ceiling since I’d heard from anyone. I wanted, _needed_ new words. I didn’t care what they said, everyone could be dead and gone, but I’d be happy. I had words, the thoughts of another, thoughts only meant for me. 

I crawled, dragging my weighted limbs across the floor, desperate to close the space between me and Tanaka’s note. His hand trembled but remained in place, sensing my agony with his infinite wisdom. Grell scratched and clawed, doing anything to hinder me, but I pressed on with newfound determination. When I finally made it, finally took the note from perfectly white gloves, I collapsed, lying facedown in exhausted triumph. Tanaka held onto my hand with a tight, worried grip, as if letting go of me would doom us all. 

“I’ll return in thirty minutes to trim your nails,” he announced, sounding deeply disturbed by the amount of energy I had to use to get across the small room. 

“We shall defend our island… no matter the…what the costs may be,” I panted, my lungs barely inflating. He rubbed a few circles into the back of my hand with his thumb before releasing me and hurrying off. After several seconds spent regaining my strength, I pulled myself up into a sitting position to examine the note. 

_April 1st, 3:25am_

_Ciel,_

_I miss you. I haven’t forgotten you, I promise. I, having big shoes to fill, have become quite busy, but I find you crossing my mind quite frequently. I wonder how you are, of course no one has told me. I’ve had many nights like this, in which I pen what I wish I could say to you. Sometimes I ponder coming to visit, but I don’t want to interfere. If you are doing well, perhaps you don’t want or need my assistance. But still…_

_Alois has made leaps and bounds in controlling his disorder. He asks about you a lot, as does Hannah, but he seems to think about you a bit more often. It’s quite charming. Hannah has blossomed and become a bit more social, becoming friends with Lizzie Midford. I think she needs the female companionship. It’s been about two months since our trip into town. I hope you’ve received what we sent you. I guess it’s too late to say that though. I know, I should’ve written sooner._

_I hope you’re doing okay. You’re strong enough to handle this, I know it._

_-Sebastian_

The first tears slipped from my eyes, pouring out my relief. He didn’t forget about me. My chest ached with the heavy beating of my reawakened heart. I welcomed the pain, the feeling. I smiled, laughed, rejoiced the return of words. The only thing that could be better than Sebastian’s words was Sebastian’s company. Then an idea wriggled it’s way into my mind. The last thing he’d said to me was, “If you should need anything, send for me.” I need him. I need to hear his voice. And, with these words, I knew he missed me, needed me as much as I needed him.

I had to write back, send for him. Every fiber of my being screamed to write back. But with only this piece of paper and nothing to write with, I was faced with a challenge. Two challenges. 

“As much as I love to look at him,” Grell interrupted my problem-solving, “this note of his is a little… dangerous.” He shoved me aside, effectively holding my head below the water of control until I lost my will. He, gaining control of my limbs, shook the lethargy away and stood up. “Wonderful, perhaps I’ll stay here until you learn to behave.”

“I have to write back!” I screamed from the void. This must be where he resides, his permanent residence deep within my mind. 

“No, I don’t want to.” Grell used my voice, speaking clearly and without labour. Mere minutes before I’d struggled to make the smallest of sounds. _He_ had been causing my struggles, my sufferings. I quickly became furious. 

“I could kill you!” I shouted stupidly within the confines of my mind. 

“Please,” he scoffed, stretching out my unused muscles before taking a seat on the bed, “You don’t know the first thing about controlling me. You’ve probably never even thought about it, have you. It took me _possessing you_ for you to get to this point.” 

I remained silent for a while, completely taken aback. He was right. I hadn’t even begun to discuss with Sebastian how to control Grell’s insanity. But now was different. I had to write back. I had to tell him what Grell was doing to me. The question was how. I had nothing to right with. I thought for a moment, exploring the outcome of using things around me, even going so far as imagining using the less dried out sections of the vomit in the corner, but cringes at the knowledge that it was even there. I’d have to use my blood. The next question was how on earth was I going to get to it? I needed something sharp, never mind full control of my body. 

I thought of Sebastian, I had to get out of here. I need him. No matter what it took. 

I imagined my body, my metaphysical self within my tangible imagination. Once I had a picture, I willed my right arm to raise. I coughed and sputtered, pouring all my concentration into a single movement. Grell resisted, pulling my arm back as I pulled forward, and it was this resistance that got things going. Slowly, my physical being reacted, raising my right arm in accordance with my metaphysical self. With another heave of strength, I slapped my hand to the side of my face, fingers crawled up my cheek, destined for my right eye. 

“Don’t you dare,” Grell said, low and menacing, promising a grave consequence. He fought me, keeping up with my efforts and countering them as best he could, but he lacked something I was overflowing with. Determination. 

I buried my thumb and my index finger into my right eye socket, twisting and turning them and burrowing deeper. Grell _screamed_ in pain-laced anger. My left arm fought valiantly against me, desperate to remove my right, to save my poor glass eye from being ripped away. “Stop this at once, you fucking psychopath, you’re ripping out your own eye!” Grell caterwauled, clawing at my arm as I worked the prosthetic loose. Once the thickest point of the eye retched free, the rest of it pulled away with little resistance. A dark, swollen, sagged, vacant eye socket was left in it’s place, accurately personifying the place I’ve come to, how far I’m willing to go to regain my sanity. I was committed, now that I had something to fight for. 

“This is my rightful place,” I whispered with my own tongue, “I’m stronger than you. Don’t forget it.” Grell growled before slinking back into his lair in my head. I’d won this round. I held my glass eye in my hand, looking into it. It glistened with a regalness that couldn’t be matched, such aristocracy. I, at one point, believed I was worthy to wear such a masterpiece, but now I know I’m not. I’m not regal, or aristocratic, or even all that intelligent. This eye… it’s what I _wish_ I was, not what I am. 

I dropped it, watched it roll away from me warily. It watched me loom over it, deciding it’s fate. It must’ve been scared. Or maybe it accepted it’s death, living it’s last moments in suave beauty. 

I crushed it, bringing my heel down on it as hard as I could, and with brute force-- barely any, but enough to get the job done-- it shattered into a million faces of purple and white stained in a weak, unassuming red. 

I bled, of course I did, this was the goal. I expected to feel a burning, or a stinging, or at least a sharp pain, but I felt nothing. I watched, mesmerized, as my blood pooled into thin, stagnant puddles of leaked life force. I bent down to soak my index finger before penning “●●●- - -●●●” messily over his note. Horrid guilt filled my lungs for marring his letter, but I had no other choice. 

“Ciel?” Tanaka’s seldom heard voice questioned, he had returned to trim my nails. I crawled to the door, letter in hand, bloodied and spoiled but still legible. I offered my hands, dropping the paper on the floor outside my room. “Oh no…” Tanaka whispered, taking my hands into his. I reached for the note, weakly giving Sebastian’s name as the receiver of my note. Tanaka stood, promising he’d return before running, _running_ , faster than any man of his immense age could ever hope to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “I may be drunk…” Winston Churchill  
> “Sometimes I need…” Ashleigh Brilliant  
> “Something wicked this way comes,” Second Witch: Act 4, Scene 1, Page 2; Macbeth, William Shakespeare  
> “There is a knocking at the gate,” Lady Macbeth: Act 5 Scene 1, Page 3; Macbeth, William Shakespeare  
> “Never before in human conflict…” Winston Churchill  
> “We shall defend our island…” Winston Churchill  
> “●●● **\---** ●●●” _”S.O.S”_ standard distress signal; Morse Code  
>  Understanding solitary confinement: http://solitarywatch.com/facts/faq/


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian Michaelis' Point of View

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys,
> 
> THIS IS THE REST OF THE CHAPTER!!!!!!!! IT GOT LONGER!!!!!!!!! i'm so sorry about my lack of additions, guys. it's been really hard lately. the fact that i don't write sebastian very well adds to that. so this is all shit, but i promise i'll make it up to you! please let me know how im doing!
> 
> also: please check out my newest story 23:45 if you're a toukyou kushu fan!

I felt hot, like someone had set a magnifying glass across my shoulder blades. In truth, it was uncharacteristically warm for a Juniper spring. The sun beat down on the windowpanes, reflecting heat and filling my office with it. The direct heat on my back proved very uncomfortable, but the general warmth of the room was soothing, lulling me to sleep, despite how hard I tried to stay awake. I sunk into my chair, face down on my desk. I breathed slow, exhausted breaths, and thought about the day, only halfway through.

As the sun shone through the glass, it also reflected the petals of wildflowers in the yard just outside. Flecks of pink, blue, and white painted the walls. A breeze drifted in through the window, carrying with it a sense of clean renewal that spring tends to hold, and the laughter of a group of girls who’d been allowed to play outside. Meirin could be heard hastening clumsily from the front of the manor to the back, likely forgetting something important she was supposed to do an hour ago. All in all, a very peaceful day. The only thing that could make it better would be Ciel. 

“Sebastian..?” a meek voice peeked in from behind my door, “It’s 1:30.” I looked up from my desk, raising my head from my hands. 1:30; I didn’t recall having any appointments this hour. This was to be the first break I got in two weeks. Being busy on top of worrying about Ciel’s well being, I’ve had to ask Aleister Chamber to step in temporarily, as Claude’s permanent replacement needed to fly in from India. As much as I detest Aleister Chamber, I couldn’t see everyone myself, there simply wasn’t enough time in the day. There was barely enough time for the two of us combined to see everyone. Thankfully, some needed less help than others and understood when meetings got cut short. But I digress, it’s 1:30 and someone is at my door. 

“I haven’t any appointments scheduled, please return to your room,” I called out extremely impolitely, “or go outside, it really is a lovely day.” I needed this nap. It wasn’t even really going to be a nap, more of a sensory break. 

“But it’s urgent,” the voice said, quiet but authoritative. I know this voice. I _dream_ of this voice. Who knew a simple thing like a voice could have such an effect? I ran my tongue over my bottom lip, growing nervous for no reason at all, there’s no way it could be him. “I have to see you, Sebastian. Please?” _Please?_ He wasn’t the sort to say ‘please’ really, not unless he was manipulating someone. 

“Ciel?” I asked the air. Most of me knew it wouldn’t be him, but a small part of me watched hopefully as a hand pushed open the door. A messy mop of blond hair shot my hopefulness dead in the heart, “Oh, it’s you,” I said, a little disappointedly, “yes, come in, Alois.” 

“April Fools…” he laughed nervously, standing awkwardly in the doorway, with the door itself cutting his body in half. I waved him over, encouraging him to take a seat. He followed my instructions, timidly perching himself in the chair not at all comfortably, “I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t fuck with you like that, but I knew you wouldn’t see me if I wasn’t… If I wasn’t _him._ ” 

So he did manipulate me, I’d just assumed he was the wrong boy. Alois had always struck me as a, how shall I put this, a _prepared_ young man. He was always equipped with things to say, points to prove. He knew what he wanted, and though for the most part, those wants were detrimental to his mental health, he was very self-aware. 

“What can I do for you, Alois?” I said, unable to stop the annoyance from playing a sour note in my throat, “Why aren’t you across the hall?” He shrank in the chair, looking very ashamed in being here, like he thought he was wasting my time. I immediately felt awful and pulled myself together. “Is everything alright?” I asked, conjuring a small, apologetic smile. 

“I was… I just…” his eyes darted about the room, “I hate him.” 

“Chamber?” he nodded. I sighed, “He’s only temporary, you may enjoy Dr. Kadar once he arrives.” I smiled again, hopefully. Alois, on the other hand, looked absolutely dismal. He’d grown fragile, and unsure of himself, feeling guilty for the littlest things. And now he looked incredibly disheartened. 

“Sebastian, what if _he_ doesn’t enjoy _me?_ ” 

“What?” I asked, lacking anything else to say. This was so unlike him. He was always so quick to assume everyone loved him. Had the few months since Claude’s death really changed him that much? 

“I got so used to being treated like shit,” he went on, “first Claude, now this Chamber jackass, who knows what the next guy will do. I’m so tired of not being good enough. I’ve never been good enough. I’m too much. And I’m trying to get better but I can’t.” He’d worked himself up so much, I could see his chest begin to heave, catching in his throat.

“What do you mean, what sort of altercations have you had with Aleister Chamber?” I asked, fully prepared to exact revenge. Though I do not see myself as a particularly angry guy, I dislike Aleister Chamber intently, any chance to show this is a chance I’ll gladly take. 

“It’s just,” Alois huffed, working to calm himself and answer my question at the same time, “The second he met me he’s been hitting on me and making me uncomfortable. He’s just like the rest of them, he think’s he can say whatever he wants because I’m a whor--”

I reached across my desk to take his hand. 

“Hey,” I said softly. He looked up, blue eyes ablaze. “Don’t ever call yourself that ever again. You know better than that, Alois.” 

“Do I?” he asked, rubbing his eyes with a fist. 

“Of course you do. And don’t worry about it, we can switch you to my case load if you like. Whatever makes you the most comfortable is what we’ll do.” I held his hand tightly, wishing I could squeeze out all his self-doubt. I thought about paying Chamber a visit when he smiled a broken, half smile, just about as close to genuine happiness as he could get right now. Any resentment I felt towards Chamber was replaced with the happy beginnings of a definite successful, working relationship. 

“Thanks,” he said quietly, relaxing into his more usual self. He lounged further into his chair, ready to work. 

“How have you been recently? Haven’t had a chat in a while,” I began, easing into the more difficult questions. 

“I’ve been okay,” he shrugged, “I’m sorry we don’t talk a lot, I uh, have to spend a lot of ‘quality time’ by myself.” And there he was, looking deeply ashamed again. I understood his euphemism and wouldn’t go into it until he was comfortable with telling me the finer details of his condition, though I already knew what they were. 

“How are things with your Undertaker? We’ve spoke briefly about him before.” I changed the subject. Now, I have my theories pertaining to Ciel’s “Grell”. He’s the entity Ciel’s mind had created to harbour the violence and vengeance he feels. Alois had told me that he had, and I quote, “a reaper like Ciel’s, but he serves a different purpose.” If I apply this to my theories, I can assume the Undertaker is some profound driving force in Alois’ life. But what was it? And who’s to say Alois isn’t lying? As bad as it may sound, it’s very rare for the _exact same symptoms_ to show up in another patient shortly after they’ve meet. And if he is lying, maybe it’s gotten so elaborate that he’s begun to believe it’s the truth. But, of course, I’d have to do more digging before I can come up with anything conclusive. 

“They’re… they’re coming, I guess,” he answered vaguely, hinting that he is not doing very well at all, “He’s just a little hard to handle. Uh.. increasingly hard to handle.”

“What does he make you do? Or what is his purpose, if he has one at all?” I asked, I needed information on how he worked before I could come up with any plan of action. Even if this is all a lie, it could help me with Ciel’s very real mental illness. 

“He’s… Well…” Alois started, I gave him a nod for encouragement, “Reapers are supposed to help people achieve things… At least that’s what Undertaker told me.” 

“And what is it that you want to achieve so badly you needed a reaper to do it?” I nonchalantly wrote vigorous notes. Alois’ eye went as wide as saucers. 

“What do I.. I want?” he asked. His sudden fear alarmed me, and I wondered for a moment what the Undertaker might’ve said to him. 

“Yes, is there something wrong?” he shook his head, but in response to another question. He didn’t appear to be even listening to me. After a few moments of silent arguing, Alois and his mind came to a consensus and his fear melted into more shame. 

“Promise you won’t get mad and throw me out.” He demanded, eyes trained on the floor. 

“You have my word,” I watched intently, scribbling quietly just out of his sight as not to unnerve him. 

“I want to.. _acquire_ Ciel.” 

“Acquire? In what sort of fashion?” I was puzzled, and it takes a lot to puzzle me, nowadays. 

“Well...” he sighed, avoiding my gaze, “When I first met him, like all of the new boys we get, I wanted his body, but now I… I kinda want his soul too… But it’s all for naught, really.”

No: this was the first thing that popped into my mind, and almost left my mouth. I had to fend off an overwhelming wave of possessiveness I didn’t even know I had before I could even speak. Love. That was the Undertaker’s driving force. And it was strong enough to destroy Alois’ ego, but could a boy of fourteen with chronic nymphomania even _feel_ this type of love? 

“I’m afraid I don’t quite understand…” I focused solely on his words, “What do you need from him? And why would that result in my being upset with you?” After experiencing such a strong objection to his previous statement, I could understand his tentativeness, but I needed to hear him say it, for the books. He sat up straight, placing his feet on the floor. I couldn’t help but notice him shake off a shiver. 

“It’s doesn’t make sense, and I know I shouldn’t ever expect him to ever give a rat’s ass about me, but…” he trailed off, searching for words to say but none came to him. I opened my mouth to say something to save him from floundering when he spoke again, “I don’t mean to step on your toes, I swear. That’s why it’s all pointless.” 

“Step on my--”

“Oh please, Sebastian,” he scoffed, “I know, okay? Just after what happened with Claude, he told me everything.”

“Oh,” I replied, again for lack of real words. 

“I won’t tell anyone, even though it’s pretty obvious, and you wouldn’t be the first staff here with an interesting relationship with one of us. What’s important is that he needs you. You can see it in the way he acts with you, he’s so much calmer, and lighter. He gets nervous when you’re not around and shy when you are. He tries to pretend like he doesn’t give a shit, but Hannah and I have seen him _smile_ when he thinks we’re not looking.” He’d gotten side tracked at this point, staring at a spot on the floor, “What a smile he has, Sebastian,” he tailed off, avoiding my gaze again. His dreamy content withered into bitter disappointment, “It’s a shame that you’re the only one with permission to see it…” he looked up at me, watched my every move for a long moment before adding, “I know he’d be happier with you than someone like me, but you better believe, Sebastian Michaelis, I’ll fuck you up if anything ever happens to him.” 

I was taken aback at first when the word “No” popped into my head again. No; he wouldn’t be “fucking me up” anytime soon because _I_ would be just as, if not more, angry if anything happened to Ciel. I would be devastated. I know Alois’ threat had no real promise to it, though, and my personal feelings have nothing to do with this, at this time. Right now, it all boiled down to this. 

 

“You miss him, don’t you.” 

My question hung in the air over our heads, waiting for his reply to join it. His gaze softened from threatening to desperately lonesome. And I must say, it tugged on my heartstrings. 

“I feel so lost, Sebastian,” he hung his head low.

“I know...So do I…” I took a deep breath, “Alois, may I confide in you?” I decided to open up. Alois, like Hannah and Ciel, was different than the others. He wasn’t sick, and had no serious mental impairments. Yes, his thought patterns and physical responses to stimuli were far out of whack, but he did have them and was aware of them. I believed Alois was more of a victim than anything else. 

“Of course, anything,” he said. 

“I seem to find myself awake at night, staring at my ceiling and worrying about him.” He sighed, pitying me and my pathetic words, but they were the truth. I’ve been counting the seconds and it isn’t healthy, it shows in my face and my attention span. But now wasn’t the time to mope about, I needed to be a psychologist. “But what the both of us must understand is that no news is good news,” I said, “As long as we’re in the dark, no matter how nervous it makes us, he isn’t in any danger.” He nodded, agreeing with the logicality, worrying ourselves sick won’t solve any problems. An uncomfortable silence stretched between us, only slightly diffused with quick glances in the other’s direction. 

“What if he’s sick?” he bit his lip, nervously messing with a lock of his hair, “Or losing his mind, or bored, even? Maybe he _thought_ he could handle it, but can’t...” I could tell a string of worst-case-scenarios ran through his mind’s eye at lightening speed, though we _just_ agreed that worrying wouldn’t be necessary. 

“There’s a possibility, but surely not to the extent that--”

“What if he died a long time ago and no one was there for him?” Alois interrupted, successfully ripping all the air from my lungs. We stared at each other, eyes wide at the possibility of a covered-up death. People sent downstairs _have died_ in the past…

“No. No, certainly Tanaka would’ve--”

“He isn’t a dog, you can’t just get a similar one and hope no one notices!” He’d snapped, falling into a whirl of irrationality known only to those who’ve been in love, “We have to get him out! I can’t live like this anymore, Sebastian!” He sat deep in the corner of his chair, begging me for any sort of guidance that I couldn’t provide. “I feel like I’m being eaten alive. Every second Ciel spends downstairs I can feel my brain literally _eating me!_ I know I’m not the one he wants but I damn well will be the one who’ll care about him if you dont!--” 

“Stop this at once,” I had to end the panic, as it had started it’s attack on me. Yes, I was afraid, even the strongest of wills can be broken when faced with one’s self. I felt sick to my stomach, but pushed it down to fester in a corner of my mind while I played the role of the levelheaded adult. “Alois, you don’t understand what you’re asking for. I understand your concerns, believe me, I more or less have the same, but there is simply nothing I can do. The two of us have ties to him that prevent us from getting involved. I apologize, I know that isn’t the answer you want, and I miss him as unbearably as you do. There is nothing I can do. We have to wait.”

“Can’t you break him out and hide him in your room until his release date?” he whined, spitting option after option, all fruitless. 

“No,” I said, feeling terrible. I knew I was just too scared, too afraid to see whether I was right or wrong in letting him submit and do his time. I knew it would be severely detrimental to his health and pulling him out of confinement before it’s too late would benefit all involved. But I couldn’t do it. I’d have to keep making excuses until his release. 

“What? Why not?” Alois questioned stubbornly, seeing through me. I could tell his instincts told him to cross his arms and pout, but he refrained from doing so, maintaining the seriousness of the conversation as if it would change my mind. 

“Alois, I made him a promise,” I said a bit too loudly, getting defensive, “He wanted to do this, and I won’t take that from him. Unless he needs me, I can’t help him. I’m sorry.” He sat there in disbelief, caught between disgust and denial. “I’m sorry, I just can’t…” 

“If you won’t break him out, I will…” He stood, pushed his chair in, and left, slamming the door for good measure. Clouds gathered in the sky, killing the sun and extinguishing the light it gave. I gave an exhausted sigh, turning to watch the sky as the clouds grew heavier and heavier with the threat of rain. The girls playing in the courtyard had gone inside, as well as Meirin. 

I hoped to whoever watches over us that Ciel had gotten my note and is doing alright.

* * *

I sat hunched over my desk, penning my worries away. It’s times like this where I cannot see, cannot hear, cannot feel. All I can do is think, and write. Sometimes, I write notes or ideas pertaining to other cases I have, other times I write to old friends that complain every few months when they don’t hear from me. But recently, I’ve been wasting away writing to Ciel, then throwing the words away. I think it makes me feel better, like I’m not neglecting him. I’ve grown accustomed to donating a certain amount of time per day to all of my patients, and with him gone, I can feel that hole. It festers and putrifies if I don’t fill it with something. So I write as a positive coping skill that borders on obsessive. Perhaps _I_ should start seeing a therapist. 

_Alois worries deeply for you,_ I write, _going so far as to suggest that I wouldn’t understand his immense concern. One one hand, most adolescents have that developmental mindset, but on the other, how could he even think such a thing? I can say with certainty that I am losing my mind. And no one knows but I. Never have I been so caught in worry…_ I scribbled neat rows of words, though my penmanship could be better, what I write is completely legible. I blew through sentences, paragraphs, pages even, unperturbed. I wrote with such speed, only persistent shaking could pull me back to surface. 

“Michaelis!” a seldom heard voice shouted, shaking me out of one of my many stints of reverie I’ve been having lately. I gasped, blinked my eyes into focus. It was dark in my office, who knows what time it is. I turned my attention to Tanaka. His eyebrows were turned up, wrinkling his face. Small beads of sweat rolled out of his hairline to settle into creases permanently carved into his usually cheerful face. He was breathing hard, shaking hard, trying to tell me something.

“My God, man, please sit!” I stood up to guide him into my chair but he waved me off, denying my assistance. He sat himself down heavily, coughing but regaining his strength. “What’s happened, Tanaka, are you going to be alright?” I looked down at him worriedly, he shouldn’t be so out of breath, especially with his age. He shouldn’t even need to _be up here!_ A tight ball of nausea sank low in my belly, slowly gaining strength. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Tanaka wheezed. He removed a shred of paper from his breast pocket and handed it to me. As the nausea spread within my stomach, a lump of worry stuck in my throat. Whatever this was… it was bad. I took it from him, peeling the paper open. The lump in my throat dropped, slamming into the nausea that had begun to make me sweat. I read the neat circles and lines written clearly through the center of the paper in a darkening red. The smell of iron and hemoglobin filled my head, making me sicker still. 

**●●●- - -●●●**

A distress call in Morse Code written in blood. As I read and reread his note, small, neatly written letters became clearer and and easier to make out. He’d written this with a finger over the note I’d sent him this morning, lacking any other surface to write on. God, even in this moment, his vast knowledge impresses me still. I wasn’t half as smart as Ciel is now when I was his age, I might not even be as smart as he is now. 

“Tanaka, what in God’s name happened?” I whispered as all the blood in my body rushed to my legs, preparing me to run. 

“Get him... Michaelis, get that boy out of there,” Tanaka’s voice, unexercised for so long, shook with effort and _fright._ I couldn’t recall the last time I’d seen him so scared.

* * *

“Sebastian, where are you going?”

“Gosh, I wonder what’s happened now!”

“You’re setting a bad example, Michaelis!”

“Get out of the way!” I shouted at the people who stood in my way, some too petrified to move as they’ve never seen me this way. Hell, _I’ve_ never seen myself this way. A cold, nervous sweat plastered my hair to my face, but did nothing to stop the fire in my chest. I ran as fast as my lack of exercise would permit, dodging Meirin and a stack of china plates as I entered the staff side of the manor. I threw open the door to the narrow staircase down into the depths of my fear. I stopped. 

“I mean, it can’t be _that_ bad,” I tried to calm myself aloud, running a hand through my sweat-soaked hair. Of course I didn’t believe myself. Ciel, my patient, my responsibility was down there, in danger, or _the_ danger! As scared as I was to face what I’d let happen to him, I had to go down there. Downward, ever downward. I hastened down the stairs. 

_”Quand il me prend dans ses bras, il me parle tout bas, je vois la vie en rose...”_

I stood still, the brightness of the hallway like a spotlight, singling me out. I listened intently, the voice… barely there but clear as day… sang an unmistakable melody, seemingly just to pass the time. 

_Il me dit des mots d'amour, des mots de tous les jours, et ça me fait quelque chose…”_

The voice, definitely belonging to someone who knew not of it’s power, consumed all of my attention, holding me captive. I could anticipate the next words, and was fully prepared to follow along, but something about the longing, the passion, froze me, so. And all I could do was listen. 

_”Il est entré dans mon cœur, une part de bonheur, dont je connais la cause…”_

I believe wholeheartedly that this song was written for this voice. It wanted, with such profound desperation, to be loved, to belong to someone. And could only convey that longing through _La Vie En Rose._ Each word was sung just quiet enough to keep me on the edge of my seat. Then I remembered, Ciel… he is the only patient in this wing. It’s _his_ voice. 

_”C'est lui pour moi, moi pour lui dans la vie, il me l'a dit, l'a juré pour la vie....”_

I have never been in love. I know not what it’s meant to feel like, or how to tell if it’s true. But this, this was my tipping point, the final push. I could write sonnets, dissertations, essays, arguments, etc. on the things that draw me to Ciel Phantomhive. But this song, in his tongue, is what set it all in place. I’m lost, a slave, to a young, troubled boy with a beautiful mind. 

_”Et dès que je l'aperçois, Alors je sens en moi, Mon cœur qui bat…”_

My feet moved at their own volition, carrying me quickly and quietly to the end of the hallway, right into the alcove that hides the door to Ciel. His voice could turn non-believers to Catholic priests with the proof that angels are real. I sighed, mourning the last words of the song, standing before the door though I’d forgotten the reason why I’m here. 

“I can hear your heart beating, do I intrigue you?” He spoke low and soft, drawing me near, luring me in. 

“Pardon..?” I asked in a daze.

“I can hear the adrenaline flowing fast through your veins.”

“I ran as fast as I could,” I explained, then suddenly remembered the note I’d stowed in my pocket, “Ciel, I’ve received your message,” I said, my directive returning to my forethoughts, “I interpreted it as a distress call, but you don’t seem very distressed.” The room was silent, almost as if I’d been speaking to shadows. “Ciel?” I knelt down, on my way to peering into the room. I looked about the room, noticing a dark stain in the back right corner, and another in the center of the room. Was it… blood? “Ciel, what’s happen--” 

A small, wiry hand shot out to grip my leg, squeezing for dear life. I sharply inhaled a surprised breath, my hand involuntarily traveling down to cover his. 

“Against the insidious wiles of foreign influence,” a different voice trembled in fear, “the jealousy of a free people ought to be constantly awake.... True! -- nervous-- very very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why will you say that I am mad?” 

George Washington? Edgar Allan Poe? None of these words were his. This _voice_ wasn’t his! He was completely beside himself, absolutely terrified. “Ciel? What happened? What can I do?” I called uselessly. My hands clammered at the heavy handle on the door. The euphoria had completely drained away, but the love, the need to reassure remained, as well as the adrenaline. 

“How, then, am I mad? Hearken! and observe how healthily --how calmly I can tell you the whole story,” he babbled mindlessly, gripping me so hard I feared for his bones. I pried the deadbolt back to life, using all of my strength and then some to loosen it’s grip. 

“What story?” I heaved, pulling at the door with all my might, “Please, no more riddles, just tell me what’s wrong!” I’d gone mad, mad with worry and the sheer need to see him. Alive and healthy, although what little I did see of him proved to be health’s harsh contrast. His skin had thinned and yellowed. Veins bulged and protruded from the surface of his hand, pumping weak, lazy blood. His fingers creaked, but held on with a surviving force unlike anything I’d seen before. 

Finally, the door gave and swung open like it had never put up a fight, showing me a shadow of the boy I knew. He’d let go of my ankle and drew into himself, sitting as a small pile of lost muscle mass and crushed will. I dropped to my knees, gathering his pieces and holding them close to my heart. His hair had grown long, greyed, and lost its luster. Strands came loose and wove into my fingers as I calmed his terrors. He weighed nothing, absolutely nothing. His body had eaten up all of its fat and quite a lot of his muscle, leaving his skeletal frame to keep his cadaverously thin shape. 

“Ciel? Ciel, look at me. What’s happening, where did all this blood come from,” I rambled frantically, losing any sense of composure. His spine had given up, turned to mush and it proved very difficult to hold him upright long enough to get a good look at him. “Please, please talk to me, I’ve been so--”

With the last spark of strength he had, he lifted his head and showed me where the blood had come from. His right eye was gone, pulled out by his own hand. In it’s place was an empty socket, reddened around the edges, throbbed with the beating of his heart. Yet it spoke with such sweet sorrow, singing the song of defilement. His left eye, thankfully still intact, burned red and streamed with petrified tears. He clung tightly to my shirt, chanting frightened Edgar Allan Poe quotes. I could tell he wanted me to understand. His mind had left him, flown south. And I reacted in the exact wrong way. 

“Oh my god,” my lips curled, baring their disgust, offended at his shameful deformity, “Why would you do this to yourself, Ciel, it’s hardly sensible.” 

I know, shocking. And it shocked me to the core. How could I say such a thing? Sad eyes went as wide as the moon, the socket poured with a thick hurt I could almost taste. 

“You…” he snatched his hands back, falling to the floor, “You _burned me_ , Sebastian.” 

Contrary to my never having been in love, I’m quite familiar with being hurt. I’ve had my fair share of _I don’t fancy you_ s and _We’re just too different_ s in my life. But that’s just it, I’ve always been on the receiving end. Always pathetic. Always left behind. I guess that’s what made me realize what I’d done so quickly, my patheticness. I’m supposed to be a part of the class of human beings that understood people enough not to do this to them. But from lack of reigning in my own sentiments, and without knowing, I’d made his nightmares a reality. 

“Ciel, no, please. I’m so sorry,” I apologized rapidly, getting nervous quickly. My knees had gone numb from kneeling here for so long, they took some coaxing, but I stood and tried to help him to his feet, but it was too late. 

“You were right…” he whimpered into the floor, crumpled up into a ball, “I know, I was naive…”

“I’m so sorry.” I failed. This was the answer I feared. Letting him do this, allowing him to prove his strength was perhaps the biggest mistake of my career, and all I could do was watch. I stood over him, watched as he whined broken thoughts to himself. I know he isn’t talking to me, there’s a chance he’s forgotten I’m here. My clinical mind might say his Schizophrenia may have progressed, perhaps mutated into Dissociative Identity Disorder. No matter what, it was clear that being alone would make it worse, but I could tell he wouldn’t be coming back on his own. 

“Yes… You were right. No, I don’t see how anyone could. Huh? Oh, I don’t care anymore… Just do it.” 

_Just do it._

“Ciel,” I said, he flinched, digging his nails into his hair. One misguided comment and now he’s _afraid_? Ouch. “I’ll return in an hour. I’ll leave the door open, you’re welcome to come back to us if you wish.” I lingered a moment before turning and leaving him cowering on the floor. I was almost to the stairs when I heard the first voice speak, soft, quiet, and confident. 

“I know you’ll be back. And I’ll be waiting.”

* * *

Tanaka stood at the top of the stairs, waiting for me. I trudged slowly upward, feeling all my cares in the world being brought into question, as well as my competence in being an impartial psychologist for the clinically insane. I’ve damaged trust between patients and myself before, and as bad as that is, it hadn’t affected me so profoundly. I ruined an already dysfunctional human being. He might not ever run the same ever again. What does _Oh, I don’t care anymore. Just do it_ mean? How do I reverse this? 

At the top of the stairs, Tanaka gave me a look that a father would give to his son after asking, “How was your first day of school?” Hopeful, but not too optimistic. _It sucked._ was the answering look I gave in return. 

“Let’s talk in my office, Tanaka,” I said. He waved me on to walk without him, heading in the direction of the kitchen, probably for tea. That’s what the great Tanaka, head of Faustus Mental Institution Security does when he’s unsettled. He makes tea. And I wouldn’t deprive him of that, so I continued my slow walk back to my office. Staring at the hallways as I passed them by. Just hours before, the happier of those who live here were bustling through these corridors, living their lives. Sometimes, it’s a comfort knowing we even _have_ a happy sum of people here. 

I turned into a dormitory hallway, just one hall above my destination. This particular hallway was very familiar for me, and has been for years. It’s the hall where Hannah and Alois stay. Hannah Annafellows was one of my first patients when I came to work here, back when I was brand-spanking new and easily manipulated by my colleagues. Claude had taught me that the most effective form of therapy was manipulation, and discipline. That these were England’s waste, the monsters under the Queen’s bed. Hannah had been a victim of circumstance, having accidentally killed a small boy, scaring him to death. She’d told me she’d surprised him, and I believed her, though I’d treated her like dirt for months until I learned what was right. I’d found out that the boy was Alois Trancy’s younger brother, and he’d been abusing her as well. The combined torment drove her to attempt suicide, and I realized that that wasn’t the person I’d wanted to be. Now here, just inside a door to my left, she slept happily. 

Alois was a different story entirely. With his Nymphomania, he was quite fond of me from the start, as well as anything else that moved or was somewhat phallic, I mean this literally. Claude, being the person he was, as cooped up as he was, volunteered to take him on without a second thought. I must say, meeting an eleven year old seasoned nymph was very disturbing, I don’t think I could’ve handled it myself. But I felt the need to keep an eye on him, noticed, but didn’t dwell on the fact, that he quickly earned privileges other patients didn’t get, purely because he was a _special case._ Then Ciel came to Juniper. Alois attempted` briefly alarmed by the beam of light shining from below it, but quickly remembering that I’d been expecting company. Tanaka must’ve beaten me. 

“Evening,” I greeted, stress weighing down my voice. He smiled sadly before offering me tea, which I was more than happy to accept. He had a knack for making tea, while I occasionally got lucky. Occasionally. “Thank you, Tanaka. I understand this is quite late for you. I’m sorry for keeping you up,” I apologized, glancing at a clock hung on the wall. 2:48am. I knew Tanaka was a lot tougher than he appears, but I was still grateful. 

“I’m worried about that young man, Michaelis. Boys aren’t supposed to be cooped up for so long.” Tanaka sat across from me, speaking his mind. I listened intently, trying to burn the sound of his voice into my mind. Tanaka never speaks, only when it’s absolutely imperative, therefore I always forget what it’s like to converse with him. It’s sad that we only speak when horrible things happen. 

“How does he behave, Tanaka?” I asked, sipping tea and putting together conjectures in my mind, “Have you noticed any significant changes since December?” Tanaka thought for a moment, looking deep into me. “I can handle it,” I assured him. I knew that was what he was worried about. Anyone who’s worked with me, will know that I become very invested in my cases, there is a bond between us. I worry about each of my patients, but Ciel had my bias. Anything Tanaka could say right now would definitely affect me, the challenge was pretending that it doesn’t. 

“Of course you know that I have a room to myself downstairs so I can hear if he calls for me,” he began, setting his teacup down and focusing on his statement, “At first he was alright, very quiet, very polite, but after a while he started to… talk to himself. Have whole conversations all alone. And shortly after that, he stopped eating. Or if he did he’d wind up vomiting most of it.” 

“When do you think this started exactly?” I asked, resisting the urge to take formal notes. 

“Maybe around late February, early March.”

“And what were the nature of these drawn out conversations?” Tanaka sighed, searching for a way to articulate what he’s witnessed, but finding nothing that words it just the way he wants. Still, he pressed on. 

“It’s times like these that I have to actively remind myself that I work in a field of nonsense, and not of witchcraft,” he said, “If I didn’t know any better, I might say it sounded like the person he was doesn’t exist anymore.”

* * *

_I might say it sounded like the person he was doesn’t exist anymore._

I found myself running again. Chasing through the hallways with the evidence I now possessed:

Talking to himself.  
Starving himself.  
Forcing himself to vomit. 

They all seemed like actions of self-loathing. But what if they were actually signs of _bullying?_ Grell could systematically weaken his resolve until it was precarious enough to push away, leaving him to stand in it’s place. Ciel’s conscience hazed him into performing actions that would inevitably be his end. My deductions were correct, his disorder had progressed and his hallucinations had gotten stronger. That last push was all it took to give him over to Grell’s more dominant personality. And I must say, if it were anyone else, I would be unbelievably fascinated. I ran noisily through the staff corridor, disturbing a few colleagues before throwing open the door to solitary and running down the stairs. Running still isn’t exactly my thing, but it’s times like this when I surprise even myself. 

As I came to the alcove, a voice cried, “Oh, Sebastian, you came back for me!” 

Here it starts. I stood for a moment, collecting everything I knew about Grell, as well as his relationship with Ciel, and placed it at the front of my mind. Where Grell was more social and impulsive, Ciel was more calculated, he’d never put himself into a position he didn’t like. And there were many positions he didn’t like, close quarters being the most frequently violated. As much as it pained me to do this, I knew I’d have to either play along with whatever Grell wants, or manipulate him. Yes, I’ve done this to _Ciel_ before, but he reacted adversely... I guess I’d have to see. 

The door stood wide open, unmoved, allowing me to enter. As I looked about, I could confirm that the stain in the center of the room was, in fact, blood. Shards of coloured glass glimmered among the blood, allowing me to guess what had happened: he’d somehow loosened his prosthetic eye and broken it to draw the blood necessary for his message, though it seemed like he’d overdone it. 

“I knew you would,” I heard him say smugly. He’d relocated to the bed, lying on his stomach and propping his head up with his hands. I could see a particularly large bit of glass jutting out from his right heel, looking every bit as painful as it must’ve been. The stain in the corner was four months of vomit and other defecations. I fought the urge to make a face when I noticed: There was no means of hygiene in solitary confinement, no bathrooms, no showers, no toothbrushes. I’d sent patients to their demise down here, and it hadn’t even occurred to me. 

“You seem much better,” I commented, leaning against the doorframe. He shot me a provocative, out of character glare, beckoning me to come closer, “ _much_ better.” It’s already abundantly clear that Ciel wasn’t himself. If he did have a secondary personality, hypothetically, there would be a trigger that would switch them. I had to find out what that was but first, “You’ve forgotten a rather uncomfortable looking shard of glass. It’s still stuck in pretty deep.” 

“Ouch,” he whined, not even bothering to assess the damage, “Don’t you want to help me?” He pouted, trailing his eyes up to meet mine. He crossed his legs, showing off the wound in his heel. A part of me was ready to comply, but was overridden by reason, I still didn’t know exactly what I was up against. On one hand, it’s been painfully clear that Grell is quite fond of me, maybe I could play into that. But on the other, it might give him more power to stay, and that’s the last thing I needed. 

“I would,” I started, “but only if you explain to me what’s been going on down here. You’ve given Tanaka quite a fright today.” 

“Oh just this and that,” he answered vaguely. He rolled onto his feet, stepping heavily on his heels and driving the glass even further into his flesh. I shuddered internally. It _must_ hurt. There’s no way that could ever be comfortable. He dropped a hip, crossing his arms and looking every bit as sassy as I presume Grell would be if he were real. 

“Don’t do that, my God,” I broke, hastening to his side. He smirked, looking smug and triumphant. He sat down again, at the foot of the bed. “Just let me see it,” I grumbled, sitting beside him. I thought I was stronger than this, that I’d be tougher on him, not literally wait on his hand and foot. Instead of doing what he was told, like the normal, reasonable Ciel would, he gasped like I’d offended him. 

“Sebastian, why are you speaking to me this way?!” he cried, raising his voice, “You’ve never done this before, don’t you miss me? Don’t you--”

“Be reasonable,” I interrupted, taking it upon myself to take his leg. He didn’t resist and once his foot was in my lap, it took minimal effort to find the end of the glass. It was pretty far in, but getting a hold of it proved easier than I’d expected. “This may hurt,” I warned. I silently apologized to Ciel before giving the glass a preemptive tug. 

“Talk dirty to me,” he said, huffing his sarcasm out of his nose and making it as obvious as possible. Adding more force, I pulled the glass free from his heel, leaving a 3cm gash and a stream of blood. Luckily the glass came out in one piece, Meirin could clean and stitch the gash pretty easily. He’ll live. 

“That wasn’t so bad,” I said, avoiding his eyes, “Now, let’s go upstairs. Meirin can--” I looked up to gauge the amount of pain he was in, deciding whether it was best to carry him. He was very very thin, wasn’t too heavy to begin with. What stopped my words was the bright pink blush that had crawled across his cheeks, even his vacant eye seemed to be bursting at the seams. He turned his eyes away, hiding behind his hair. “What?” I asked, questioning his sudden change of mood. 

“Oh, you’re just so sweet to me, Sebastian,” he _gushed._ He bared his left socket that widened with it’s own broken form of embarrassed sweetness. 

“You’re welcome..?” _Now what is this?!_ I thought, _a third personality?_ My brows knit together confusedly, sticking like that even when I found myself with a lap full of an unashamedly affectionate Ciel. I made a rather undignified yelp as his knees settled on either side of my hips. He threw his arms around me, hugging me tightly. I could see a small, peaceful smile grace his lips, and returned his hug wholeheartedly. 

“This is great!” he purred, “I’m getting goosebumps all over my body, little Sebastian…” For a moment, I allowed myself this, feeling pleasant and wanted. But it wasn’t long until the remainder of his state of mind soured my mood. I floundered, unconsciously letting him trail his fingers through my hair, down my neck, across my shoulders. The same daze I recall from hearing him sing crawled into my mind, leaving me confused, wordless, and lacking any real direction at this point. “I’ve waited for this for five months,” he mused, tracing my jawline with his fingertips. 

“Four,” I corrected, “I dated my note April 1st. You were put into solitary confinement at the end of December. That’s four months.” A flicker of something angry flashed across his face before it settled into indifference. He stared straight into me, that serene smile tightening into an offended line. 

“Isn’t that what I said?” 

“No.”

“Such an ice king you are,” he said slowly, his working eye giving off a creepily happy gleam.

“Excuse--” 

“A beautiful tyrant,” he sighed before pecking my forehead, exaggerating the small sucking sound that comes with it. “An angelic devil,” he traveled downward, kissing my nose, “A raven with the wings of a dove,” by now the wiser part of me had vacated the premises. “My little lamb with the appetite of a wolf… _I missed you dearly._ ”

Ah, to be missed. Even in the conflicted state I was in, it still felt sweet. But in it’s sweetness lurked that _difference_ so unmistakable yet so easily overlooked. I, still utterly confused as to how I ended up in this position, remained in my place. I searched for words. This isn’t really how I’d expected this to go, but I was coaxed out of reverie by the two small hands on either side of my face brushing hair out of my eyes. 

“My very own Sebastian, Darling,” he whispered, lips threatening to meet mine. If I _could_ react, I’m sickened to admit that I don’t know if I would’ve stopped him, but this intimacy, this _closeness_ was the trigger I needed to bring the real Ciel Phantomhive back to the surface. As his face drifted ever closer, his fingernails dug lightly into my skin, seemingly as a reflex but I knew that he was in there, deep down, protesting profusely. 

“Ciel? Is that you?” I exclaimed, hands flying to his face, mirroring where his were on mine. Even the smallest signs of him could strike joy in my heart. I smiled, remembering him in the way he was, happy with the renewed hope that I could restore him to his rightful place. The boy before me, however, wasn’t nearly as excited to feel Ciel within him as I was. 

_”Really!?”_ he huffed, any cutesy passion turning into annoyance, “you ruined the moment, good show.” I ignored the voice I was hearing, it wasn’t important. 

“I’m going to get you out of there, I promise,” I unwound, seeing flickers of something else behind the growing anger on his face. “I missed you,” I couldn’t help but say, successfully tearing down any facade Grell had doned. He crossed his arms like a toddler about to throw a temper tantrum, but didn’t bother to move from my lap. 

“I’m sick of hearing that brat’s name, Sebastian,” definitely Grell, “You honestly can’t go five minutes without saying it.” Building anger sharpened his consonants, yet he still had no affect on me. I couldn’t pay attention to an entity that wasn’t real. I couldn’t love it, take it seriously, feel threatened by it. But in this moment I’d completely forgotten that not only is Grell Ciel’s conscience, he is also his insanity. “Sebastian, are you even listening to me?” he pressed, “you know damn well that I’m talking to you.” 

“I can deduce as much,” I replied smugly, “but there isn’t much for conversation is there? You’re not real, Grell, although in truth it does fascinate me to finally meet you so… unfiltered.” I’d regained my confidence, talking back to the murderous side of Ciel, unarmed, vulnerable, but still totally fine with provoking him further. 

“You better get used to it sweetheart,” he spat, still straddling me, “I won’t be leaving.” Ominous, yes. But a challenge is a challenge and this challenge was accepted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _La Vie En Rose_ , Edith Piaf   
> “Insidious wiles,” George Washington, Farewell Address, 19/9/1796  
> “Harken! and that stuff,” Edgar Allan Poe, Tell-tale Heart  
> “This is great!...” Grell Sutcliffe, Kuroshitsuji   
> “Such an ice king…” Grell Sutcliffe, Kuroshitsuji


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alois Trancy's point of view

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh hey. back from the dead. if you didn't yet, please read chapter 24 again. i added a bunch to it and this will only make sense if you've read the entirety of the previous chapter. this one's not very good, i know. thanks for reading.
> 
> also: for any tk fans, my newest story is shaping up to be rather nice. please check it out

_“I’m waiting for you, Alois, I’m wasting away… I’m losing my mind… I can’t bare it anymore… I’ll die, I swear it. I’ll find a way… You’ll never see me again.”_

“Please… don’t go.”

_“But why? You don’t love me. You don’t care enough to even write.”_

“I can’t lose you… you’re all I have.”

_I’m all you have. Tell me, Alois, why did you let them do this to me?”_

“What..?”

_“You let them throw me in here. You forgot about me. You let him hurt me… Why?”_

“Wait. Who hurt you? It wasn’t Sebastian or I swear to you I’ll kill him.”

_“He burned me, Alois. Now I’m alone, afraid, lonely, confused, waiting for someone to save me…”_

“But why me? I hurt you. You must hate me, don’t you? I’m sick, I’m depraved. I’m--”

_”Alois.”_

“Yes, Ciel..?”

_”Would you die for me.”_

“Yes…”

_”Promise?”_

* * *

I opened my eyes, or rather refocused them. I hardly sleep. Just stare at the ceiling as the night passes. The dark blurriness sharpened into the shape of my room. The left side of the room was somehow darker than the rest. When my eyes grew accustomed to the light, that side, Ciel’s side, stayed hauntingly dark. The longer I stared in it’s direction, the louder his voice grew. I could hear him, whispering, weeping, screaming for help. But there was no one there. 

“I promise.”

I sat up in my bed, eyes still trained on the darkness to my left. The springs in this old mattress groaned with agony, abused further and further to collapse with every move I made upon it. As heartless as I was, I didn’t care. I never care. With every stranger I let abuse me on this bed, the thought of how _it_ must feel never crossed my mind. With a final pained shriek from the bed, I stood on strangely confident legs, still, mindful, breathing softly. 

“My my, aren’t you up late,” Undertaker observed, appearing before me within tendrils of thick, rather obnoxious grey smoke. His emerald ring winked in the moonlight, flashing into my eyes. 

“I have to save him,” I said unperturbed. Undertaker smiled a wide, evil smile, but fright never came to me. The usual gentility of the rug on my skin brought me no pleasure. There was just the empty, monotonous reminder that I am here and Ciel is not. 

“Humans are so weak and fragile…” he scoffed, punching out the words like somehow it would hurt me. I rolled my eyes, turning away from him, towards the door. 

“You’re here to help me. Are you going to live up to you end, or are you going to get in my way.” I huffed loudly, marching toward the door. I felt… far away. Like something else was driving me, egging me on. I padded quietly to the door, opening it soundlessly, but slamming it behind me. My muscles tensed, forcing me to stand still. 

“Think someone heard that?” Undertaker said sarcastically, fake, canned laughter following close behind his words. I didn’t breathe, but wasn’t worried about being discovered. I know I should’ve been, but I felt so calm. So light. So under control. I shrugged my shoulders, my shirt riding up my belly to rest just above my navel, and continued to walk. I made it to the center of the hall before a quiet, familiar voice called out to me. 

“Alois? What are you doing up so late?” I turned, seeing her peek out from behind her door looking concerned. 

“I have to find him, Hannah. He needs me,” I said, keeping my voice down. She looked around for any witnesses before hastening to me, hugging me tightly. She’d caught me off guard, throwing my balance, “What on earth do you think you’re doing?” I whisper-yelled, reverting to my usual self. She tightened her arms around my neck, nearly suffocating me in her hair, but I could tell she was upset. 

“Alois, don’t go down there…” she whispered, “you won’t like what you’ll find.” 

“What do _you_ know!?” I scoffed, hugging her back, doing the best I could to at least pretend to be a good friend, “Letting you visit and not me, are they? Sick gits the lot of them.” 

“No, no,” she said, peeling away from me to glue her hands to my face. She’d been sweating, panicking, “I haven’t seen him the same as you, but I _know_ something’s not right. He dies in my dreams, Alois, over and over, but he’s not himself. Please don’t go down there.” She stared deep into me, eyes wide. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” I frantically tried to calm her down, “I won’t be long. I’ll find him and bring him back to you so you can see that he’s safe, okay?” Of course, I wasn’t planning on sharing Ciel, ever, but if Hannah needed to see him to calm the fuck down, I suppose I could be nice. But she wouldn’t have it. 

“No. You can’t go down there alone. Horrible things will happen, I can feel it in my bones.”

“Then for goodness sake, come along then!” I shouted under my breath. She froze, debating the pros and cons, then complied. I felt my eerie calm give way to anxiousness, and the more she filled me with her grim premonitions, the more I needed to see him. I needed to know he was alive, healthy, cared for. Did Hannah know that he dies in _my_ dreams too? I dragged her along down the stairs to the ground floor, pausing to check for any opposition. 

“Do you even know how to get there…” Hannah asked, wary of her volume. 

“Not a clue.”

The two of us wandered through the halls like little mice, searching for our friend. I watched my feet, feeling that strange emptiness block out the feathery softness of the rugs. I usually can’t walk this far without having to… stop, or having to actively try to make it hurt, digging my heels into the rug until they burned. Hannah noticed the lack of effort I took in walking, but didn’t say anything. I noticed that her usual shy confidence had drained out of her, making her cling to me, but I didn’t say anything. The mutual eye-aversions that make it easier to be her friend. She helped me get closer to Ciel, convinced him that I wasn’t as bad as I really am. As angry as I am for the murder of my brother, I had to remember the good she’s done for me. Oh, Luka… I miss you dearly. Don’t hate me for forgiving your killer…

* * *

“This? This unsuitably boring door? _This_ is the door they’ve hidden him behind?” Hot fury bubbled in my chest, letting off its steam in a low growl. After wandering the dangerously active staff hallways for this long, I’d expected more than this. Hannah and I stood before what seemed like a kitchen door. It lacked any sort of beauty, served it’s purpose, but wasn’t at all aesthetically pleasing. 

“One of them, yes,” Undertaker sighed, bored out of his mind. 

“Atrocious…” I grumbled, “And thanks for all your help, it’s not like wasting all this time looking for this place was fun for any of us.” The Undertaker sighed, choosing not to dignify my sarcasm with a response. It was Hannah that spoke up. 

“Alois,” Hannah jumped in, “Who are you talking to?” Shit. 

“You..?”

“Bullshit.” Shit, shit, shit. Undertaker giggled, perfectly content to watch me flail internally for an appropriate answer. Served me right for being rude, I guess. 

“Smooth, very smooth!” Undertakers giggle transformed into a full fledged booming laughter.

“Oh shut up,” I complained out loud, but quickly realized what I’d done. I slowly turned to look at Hannah who looked really unamused. She crossed her arms, glaring at me in the dark. 

“I asked you a question, not for one of your kidneys. Settle down.” 

“Alright, damn, sorry,” I threw my arms up, trying to play of my insane chatting with the voices in my head as pent up teenage-boy angst. I could tell she didn’t really believe it, but she chose not to argue with me on this one. We had shit to do after all. Her eyes darted left and right before she went for the door. Turning the knob was a soundless task, but as she pulled the door open it wailed, tortured for too long. She stopped, pure, white light squeezed through a centimeter wide gap. We searched the hallways, strained our ears, for signs of other human beings. 

“I think the coast is--” the heavy footsteps of someone large stepped faintly into our eardrums, progressively getting louder and louder, cutting Hannah off mid-sentence. Her eyes grew ten sizes, panic stole her voice. The thin line of light cut her prosthetic eye in half and it sparkled with it’s own suspended terror. 

We listened to the footsteps, watching the halls for their owner, when we both realized at the same time that they were coming from _behind us!_ Someone was coming up the stairs behind the door! _Someone had gone to see Ciel!_ Without warning, Hannah pulled me into the corner of the hallway, standing in the space just behind the door had it been opened as far as it could. 

The louder the steps, the harder my heart beat. I could’ve sworn it was bruising my ribs from the inside when I heard a hand push open the door from the inside. The door keened, being pushed to it’s limit once again, trapping Hannah and I behind it. My lungs ramped up for a pathetic scream when Hannah clamped her hand down over my mouth. We watched as the silhouette of a tall, thin man marched out into the hall. 

Sebastian, walked tiredly out into the hallway, looking unbelievably smug for dark:thirty am. Some of my tenseness drained slightly, giving way to confusion. What was he doing here with that _look_ on his face? _That_ look: the “I just totally scarred someone for life but I’m super okay with it and will probably do it again” look. It made his eyes narrow and his lips turn up at the corners, made him look exactly like Claude. I gasped behind Hannah’s hand, pulling away from her, but she held on. 

“You can’t just leave!” all three of us heard a voice scream from down below. Sebastian looked back in the direction from which it came, but didn’t chase after it. He just smirked, flipping a switch and deilluminating the stairway. I fought against Hannah’s surprisingly steely grip until we both saw him go for the door. Together we pushed back as hard as we could, desperately trying to become one with the walls. It was dark, yes, but surely Sebatian of all people would be able to sense two terrified patients out of their bedrooms. 

The door closed about halfway with a pitiful sob and Sebastian walked quietly down the hall. Hannah and I waited, dead silent for another minute before she pushed me out from behind the door. I tumbled, catching myself before I fell and made a ridiculous amount of noise. Hannah made a run for the door, the gap left behind deemed wide enough for the two of us to fit. I followed closely.

“That was scary,” her voice panted about halfway down the stairs. I couldn’t see her in the pitch black of the staircase, but I could see where it turned. There was another light on around the corner. That’s where Ciel is. 

“We can freak out about it later,” I said, trying to seem stronger than I really am, “You stay here, keep watch while I go find him.” She said nothing as I passed her, headed for that light. Even the stairs whined at their pain, creaking under the pressure of my feet. Bedsprings, doors, and now stairs, all expressed their own form of anguish. I wasn’t _purposely_ trying to hurt them, but sometimes some must hurt so the others can be pain-free. 

A faint hitching of breath echoed off the blindingly white walls, amplifying the empty loneliness already evident as soon as I entered. Open, shameless weeping, progressively getting louder and more hopeless drew me in, begging me to take another step. It seemed the closer I came, the more breathless the crying became, like those lungs would explode in with a bloody pop any moment now. I walked faster to the end of the hall, towards the weeping. The sound of my feet slapping the linoleum added to broken, agonized sobs as I closed in on the alcove to Ciel’s prison. The door was wide open, emitting a god awful stench. The smell of copious amounts of blood and bile burned my nose, brought tears to my eyes, but the thing that stopped me in my tracks was when the sobbing became broken words. 

“Go away,” Ciel’s voice tried desperately to sound as confident as it used to, “I don’t want any v-visitors, Sebastian, just stay away!” 

Sebastian. That bastard. Just today he said he’d never visit Ciel unless it was important. Turns out he’s seeing him in the dead of night? Ciel was the poster boy of self control, never caring about anything that didn’t benefit him in some way. But everyone knows that front comes down around Sebastian. He fucking trusts him! Now look what he’s done! I swallowed violent retaliation as it bubbled up my throat, almost turning into a painful retort. I shook off any doubt, and stepped into the room, looking around when I didn’t immediately see him. A huge, dark, red stain blemished the center of the room, making me go as white as the walls. Yes, I noticed the vomit stain as well, but _blood!_

“I said get out!” wailed a little crumpled ball sitting on the bed. It shivered and moaned, terrified and exhausted, “Please, Sebastian, just go… and never come back.” 

“It’s me, Ciel,” I said, taking a tentative step forward, “It’s Alois. Remember me?” A balding mop of bluish grey hair rolled upward, showing me it’s eyes. Or _eye_ I should say. The left was red and wet, inflamed with sorrow and fatigue. The right, however, was gone, socket hollowed and bloodied and stretched. Loose eyelids sagged heavily over the empty hole in his face, leaving his left eye to speak for itself. 

“Alois…?” 

“You got it,” I reassured, smiling brightly, “I’m here to help you.” I sat next to him on the bed, my weight making him roll into my arms. “God, I missed you so much… Promise you’ll never leave me again,” I whispered into his hair, wrapping my arms around him. As furious as I am at Sebastian for fucking lying to me, I beamed with happiness, feeling the colour rush back into my cheeks, the fire in my belly, the beat in my heart. Everything could work correctly, now that what’s missing has been returned. “Hannah’s in the hall keeping watch, we can go back upstairs and--”

“No!” he shouted, scaring me quiet. He sat up, clinging tightly to my nightshirt, making my collar cut unpleasantly into the back of my neck. “You have to help me,” he said, suddenly fearful. 

“I-I am!” I replied, trying to loosen his grip on my shirt, “Please, it’s okay. Let’s calm down, now. You need sleep, and Meirin, and--”

“No!” he shouted again, tears starting to fall from his left eye, “Alois,” he said softly. He took my hand, slowly bringing it up to trace his eye with my fingertips, “rip it out.” He pressed my fingers into the hollow just above the top of his actual eyeball. I, completely thrown, reacted only when I realized that he was about to do it for me. 

“What! No! Why the hell would you even say that!” I cried, snatching my hand back. 

“Alois, please!” he’d begun to sob again, heavy tears rolling down his cheeks to mingle with the snot that had collected under his nose and at his chin. “Please, rip the fucking thing out! Let me die! Please, I’ll do anything!” He wants to fucking _die!?_

“You just said you wouldn’t leave me!” I cried, knowing he didn’t actually say anything, “You fucking promised! No way I’m helping you die!” I could hear his heart beating in my ears, _his_ heart, beating frantically. He pulled himself up by my collar, effectively choking away my protests. My hands flew to his shoulders, careful not to press too hard, afraid I might bruise or even break him. 

“He’s watching us, Alois…” he whispered, inches away from my face, “He hears everything. You have to kill me, Alois, I can’t do it myself.” Waterfalls of tears pushed shamelessly from my eyes, listening speechlessly to his pleading. His bones rattled in my grasp, unable to hold him up much longer. God, he’d gotten so thin, I could see right through him, right into his tired, shaken heart. “Rip it out, Alois. Leave me to bleed to death before he makes me hurt anyone else. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t breathe on my own… Please put me out of my...” My heart stopped, ceased all functions. My blood stopped circulating. My lungs deflated. My entire sense of self had collapsed. “Misery… is manifold,” he sighed, his voice giving out. My hands brushed upward, past his collar bones to hold him to me. I could feel his warmth already draining away. 

“Berenice,” I half-laughed, choking on a harsh, protesting sob. I closed my eyes, feeling his skin at my fingertips, brushing away his tears, accidentally brushing away long, stringy strands of hair. “Can I keep your book?” I asked, “I want to remember you…” He nodded, or at least I think he did. This was the end. He was slipping from me. And as much as I wanted to be selfish, as much as I wanted to keep him all to myself, I wouldn’t make him suffer. But, I’ll be damned if I don’t do this. 

I opened my eyes a pinch, to see that his were screwed shut so tight it was almost like he was hiding from me. For a fleeting moment, I felt very very sick, like my stomach was eating itself. I’d been down this path before: he snapped and tried to kill me. But this time was different… right? 

I took a deep breath before pressing my lips to his. They were so thin, so unresponsive, so _dead_ , tasting like mold and depression. He didn’t seem to care, which stung a bit. I didn’t know what I was expecting, really. I dreamed of this a thousand times, but I never thought meeting someone I actually cared about would end like this. But this was my last chance before I obeyed him. If he wanted to die, who was I to torture him with life? 

“Why?” he asked, sagging his shoulders like a wet t shirt. 

“I love you,” I replied, beginning to cry again, “I want you to live so badly. But if this is what you really want, I’ll… I’ll do it. I’ll do anything for you.” My eyes had closed somewhere within that speech as I clung to him for a change. All at once, Ciel’s spine straightened, letting him sit up like he always did. 

“Really,” he said. Not asked, said. I looked up, seeing an entirely different Ciel than when I’d found him. He looked down at me, face done up in amused interest. He even smirked just the smallest amount at my declaration of fucking eternal servitude. He crawled into my lap, sitting directly between my legs. “You came to save me, how sweet.” I hugged him tightly. I ignored the sudden change in mood, thanking the gods for changing his mind. I exhaled serious relief and my heart relaxed into a quieter beat. I held my wrists, squeezing him to me and the next thing I said made me cringe. 

“You think I’m sweet?”

Oh god. Why. 

Ciel, fortunately, nodded, content with holding onto me and saying nothing. I wish we could’ve stayed that way forever. We were happy. Not five minutes ago, he wanted me to rip his fucking eye out and somehow I’d managed to change his mind! Me! Nothing could ruin this! 

“Guys, we have to-- what the hell?!” Hannah ran into the room, making eye contact with the bloodstain on the floor. She gasped, her jaw dropping and her hands moving to cover her mouth. 

I stand corrected. 

“Hannah, it’s okay,” I groaned, rolling my eyes. She really knew how to ruin a moment. Ciel, still sitting in my lap, cringed at her sudden and loud entrance. He whimpered, tightening his grip on my shirt, and making it hard to breathe again. “Shhh, it’s fine. You’re okay, it’s just Hannah, remember? She’s here to help you too.” Hannah yanked her eyes away from the blood on the floor, making a mental note to ask about it later. She did her best to put on a warm smile, hooking a strand of hair behind her ear. 

“Hannah? Oh, right, how silly of me…” Ciel strained his voice, making it as loud as possible. Hannah knelt beside us, her smile growing a bit more genuine. 

“Don’t worry yourself,” she said, “Let’s get you upstairs, for now. We can worry about baths and food later, alright?” Her motherly side kicked in, smoothing her voice out and making her eyes sparkle. Ciel smiled weakly, turning to see her and consequently showing her his right eye. Her smile faltered when she saw. “Oh, Ciel…” she started, but changed her mind mid-sentence, “I’ll see to that later. Let’s go, Alois, Tanaka will be down here any second and he’ll have our heads.” 

“Right,” I agreed.

“I can walk,” Ciel said just above a dry whisper. I helped him out of my lap, spotting him even before he attempted to stand. 

“Ciel, I don’t think you should strain yourself,” I questioned, sitting away from him gave me enough room to see just how frail he’d gotten. I could count his ribs through thin, yellowing skin. His lungs fluttered rather than inhaled and exhaled. His spine had several abnormal curves in it, and attempting to stand seemed to aggravate them. “Can I carry you?” Ciel nodded, putting up no fights. With a whirl of motion, he was in my arms, light as a feather. I smiled to myself, inwardly impressed with my ability to _carry_ Ciel Phantomhive. I’m almost positive I’m the only one that he’s ever given permission to when it comes to lifting him, never mind carrying him places. Hannah stared in slack-jawed disbelief, unaware in the progress I’ve made with him. 

“I’m cold,” he complained quietly, “What are we waiting for?” His general irritability somehow eased Hannah, who was already running pretty high. She looked at me, wanting to say something along the lines of _What was all that? The real Ciel would never let you touch him, let alone carry him!_ I sent her a warning glare, doing my best to snarl silently. I wanted to scare her, not Ciel. There’s no way I’m letting her fuck this up for me. 

She stepped aside, letting me leave the room ahead of her, “Um, Alois..?” I turned sharply on my heels, fully prepared to start a fight for ruining my good mood with her presence, when I saw her face. The colour had drained from her skin, turning _her_ as white as the walls. A balled-up scream bobbed up and down in her throat as she tried to stay quiet. She sighed to release some of the pressure, but it didn’t seem to work. 

“What,” I said rather impolitely. 

“His eye, it-- it--” A dead quiet, dark chuckle made the hair on the back of my neck stand to full attention. 

“Ciel?” I whispered, feeling threatened by the snip in my arms again. Hannah took a step backward directly into the blood on the floor. It coated the bottoms of her bare feet, staining her flesh, making red footprints wherever she’d step. 

“I swear I saw his eye turn green.”


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alois Trancy's Point of View

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's little me, back from the dead! this chapter is complete and utter shit, but it's nice and long. i'm really sorry for making you wait this long. but it's summer where i live and everything gets much more relaxed so i'll likely be able to work on this more often (: 
> 
> also, if you happen to have an interesting blog please let me follow you. my dash is dead 3: mylifeisaverageish.tumblr.com is my url. please find me ^_^

It was an ordinary English morning with mist so thick I could barely see the trees outside the manor. The swollen clouds hung low in the sky, blocking out the sun and chilling the air below. The wildflowers wilted, retracting into themselves to keep warm, their colours dulling. Brisk air fought against the radiators, piling their casualties into heavy drops of condensation that collected on the windows. Cold reached in to brush the hair from my eyes, making me shiver, squeeze my eyes shut. I pawed my bed, searching to replace the comfort I’d lost. Where is it? Where is _he?_ I reluctantly peeled my eyes open, to see that I had been left alone.

_Was it all a dream?_

My chest felt hollow, lifeless and that void spread down to my stomach, through my veins, and up my spine as I rolled onto my back to stare at the ceiling. I fought the prickling behind my eyes, there’s no point in getting upset. I’m used to waking up alone. But after such a vivid dream… I could’ve sworn it was real. 

The sound of the door catching on the rug startled me. With a whirl of panicked motion, I flipped over and pretended to sleep, hoping to avoid whoever decided to interrupt my loneliness. Most likely Hannah. I listened carefully to the door skitting across the rug, standing wide open and allowing entrance. I willed my breath to slow, praying no one saw, though Undertaker couldn’t help but snicker. 

“Hiding from your responsibilities, are we? How characteristic,” Undertaker quipped. My brows furrowed, but I stayed silent. The rug dampened the quick footsteps that crossed the room, but I could tell they were headed toward the end opposite of me. My eyes peeled when the coast seemed clear. Silently, I pulled the blanket down from my eyes, my intruder coming into full view. 

_Ciel!_

“Much better,” he said with a contented sigh. I pressed my palms to my bed, raising slightly to watch Ciel rub moisture from his skin and hair. His face, collarbones, and belly were stained an irritated pink by scalding water. _It wasn’t a dream!_ Relief that started from deep in my heart rushed through my arteries, refilling my missing parts. First day waking up and seeing him, occupying his respective side of the room, and I already felt the normality of routine relax me. I pushed firmer, looking over my mountain of blankets at my newly reinstated roommate as he dried off. It’s miraculous, what a good shower can do. He was sick, filthy, and too weak to stand when I found him. I could still see every single bone in his body standing out prominently underneath his skin, but liveliness brought the colour back to his cheeks. His hair had grown to pass the tops of his shoulders ever so slightly, hanging thinly and awkwardly over his eyes as he ran a towel through it. It was easy to tell that he’d lost quite a bit of hair by the clumps missing from his scalp. Must’ve been from stress… or ripping it out.

I watched absolutely riveted, eyes following water droplets that trailed downward to be lost to a second white towel he’d wrapped about his waist. Hot water had eased the knots from his muscles, rejuvenated his skin to it’s rightful suppleness. Even from across the room, I could tell he hurt less. His bones didn’t creak as he moved, his joints didn’t lock or rub against each other. Paired with his quiet, even breaths, I could say he’d made a pretty spectacular recovery in the last few hours.

“You’re beautiful…” I whispered, straining to see more comfortably before he froze, standing completely still with his back to me. _Ugh, now you’ve done it, Alois,_ I mentally chastised, _He’s been back for a day and you’re already staring._ I retreated to the safety of my down comforter, while still ogling in his direction. I know, I’m a genius. My traitorous bed groaned, announcing my consciousness. Ciel’s single blue eye flicked up and locked with mine. I cringed, expecting him to snap at me for watching him dry off. But a light peachy pink ran over his cheeks and nose. 

“Oh, Alois,” he blushed, “How long have you been awake?” He held tight to the towel around his waist, which had ridden down low on his hips. The roughness of the fabric rubbed angry red patches into his fair skin, his spine curved inward to hide from my eyes. He watched me through his lashes and pinned his eyebrows together, looking ashamed and embarrassed. 

“My, my, my,” Undertaker whispered softly in my ears, startling me. “Look at what we have here. Like what you see, don’t you,” he said, ignoring my question. I swallowed a thick lump of self-control, eyes darting back and forth between the floor and Ciel’s eye. Beads of sweat began to form around my hairline and down my neck as flashes of possible scenarios willed my blood to reconvene at the pit of my stomach. 

“I’m sorry. I’ll leave,” he apologized but made no real moves towards the door. He just stared back, looking at me, wanting something but unwilling to tell me what that might be. The word ‘leave’ is what sparked my attention. 

“No, no, no,” I stopped him, tripping over my words. “You don’t have to leave. It’s fine.” Undertaker’s quiet chuckling grew to a dark laughter. 

“‘ _It’s fine’?_ ” He questioned, poking and prodding at my brain as his laughter grew even bigger and more hysterical. “I can see through your mind’s eye too, Alois. You’re one depraved child aren’t you?” I could feel by pupils growing, blowing out and turning my eyes black. _Just a little lower,_ I thought to myself, _There can’t be anything else underneath that towel. Please, don’t tease me._

“Are you sure?” Ciel asked. _Come on, come on, come on…_ I sat up in my bed, shaking my head in a vain attempt to clear it. Though, I stayed buried under my ocean of bedclothes just in case. 

“It’s you room too, Ciel. It’s okay.” I fought to stay in my place, knowing that if I got out of bed, nothing good would come of it. I took a deep breath, holding it before I exhaled slowly. I can do this. I can be a good person for a few minutes. “You shouldn’t have to feel so modest in your own space, right?” I tried to smile, but it came off as more of a pained longing. I looked into my lap, picking at my cuticles. 

“I don’t want to upset your...condition,” he deadpanned. 

_Ouch, right in the heart._

“It’s okay. Don’t worry, I just won’t look. It’ll be fine,” I babbled, staring intently at my hands. Hearing the rustle of towels hitting the floor, my hands ceased their picking to fly up and cover my eyes. Undertaker, who’d lessened his incessant laughter a bit, roared into my ear drums. The hooting and gasping projected directly into my brain created a throbbing ache that built up until I whined at my discomfort. I didn’t hear the silent, feline footsteps closing in on me. I didn’t realize his demeanor had changed either. 

“Undertaker, that’s enough. I tire of your voice. Go spew your fake, canned laughter into someone else’s ears.” Instantly, the laughing stopped, fading away like someone had gone into my mind, sought out my conscience, and turned down the volume. The foot of my bed dipped with the weight of a new body for it to support. The mattress cried out for an end to its misery, but that cry went unanswered. Once the pounding had stopped and I was certain it was safe to look in an emergency, my hands returned to my lap to pick nervously at my nails. 

_Come on Alois, you can do this. This is innocent. You’re better than this._

“You weren’t kidding when you said you’d do anything for me, were you.” A pair of hands planted themselves on either side of me, I could see them clawing into the comforter as I stared downward. 

“Of course I’d do anything for you,” I said in a small voice, “I-I love you.” Puffs of silent laughter disturbed the hair in my eyes, itching my face, but I didn’t dare look up. 

“That’s what I like to hear,” he purred, crawling forward to whisper in my ear. I shuddered, wondering what the hell’s going on and trying to decide whether or not I liked it. “Say it again,” he demanded just above a whisper that turned my brain to mush. 

“I love you..?” I repeated, ripping at my cuticles. Approval: my ultimate weakness. 

“No, Alois, the first bit,” he corrected with a single sarcastic laugh. My lungs ached, holding in a breath I knew would exit me as a lewd keen if I didn’t control it. 

“I’d do anything for you.” 

An overwhelming urge to look up got the best of me, forcing me to pull my eyes up away from my lap. I blinked before I made it to his face, the world going black before I was met with a dark, arrogant, “I just totally scarred someone for life but I’m super okay with it and will probably do it again” look. _That_ look, ablaze behind a bright green eye. 

_What the fuck?!_

In confused panic, I accidentally ripped off a thin section of the cuticle on my left index finger. With detached skin firmly lodged underneath my thumbnail, I hissed at the sudden sting and the drops of blood that oozed out. One of the hands planted beside me rose, covering mine and stilling them, “A little bird once told me not to pick my nails.” I looked down at our hands, then back up at his face. His arrogance only grew more powerful, but the strange greenness of his eye was gone. It must’ve been my imagination. 

“Ciel,” I whispered his name, tasted it as it rolled off my tongue, “you’re doing things to me, I don’t know if I can control them.” The corner of his mouth turned up, eyes narrowing as his face drifted to my left, his nose brushing my neck. Looking over his shoulder, a scant pair of black short caught my eye. They were familiar, trimmed to a length and shape I knew well. Ciel Phantomhive was on all fours before me in nothing but a pair of _my_ pants. And my dick was _not_ having it. 

“Can’t you,” Ciel interrupted my thoughts. His voice reached depths that ought not to be explored at times like this, he purred so softly I had to squeeze my hands together to keep them to myself. With my pupils growing faster than the Grinch’s heart, I swallowed a mouthful of saliva that threatened to drip from the corners of my mouth. 

_He started it. He’s the one that came onto you, so it must be okay._

“Are those mine?” I asked dumbly, deafened by the sound of my heart pumping blood every which way, not knowing exactly how to react. Do I run? Do I stay? Should I be closing my eyes still? A million questions raced through my mind, leaving me to stare helplessly. Watching me flounder, Ciel smirked, revelling in the shitstorm he’d created in my mind. He knew what he was doing, and he was absolutely doing it on purpose, but the part of my brain that cared about that had been fogged over long ago. 

Closing the mere millimeters between our faces, he pecked the air just before my lips before pulling away and looking me dead in the eye. Without thinking or calculating exactly what I’d do like Claude would’ve expected, my hands separated to their respective sides. They chose a spot on Ciel’s face to pull him in. After four miserable months of waiting and worrying, the heat of my disorder ripped desperate, salacious sounds from my throat only to be swallowed up by Ciel. My fingers lost themselves in his hair, still not completely dry yet, and scraped along his scalp. His responding sigh evaporated faster than I could enjoy it, sending the demand for more through the roof. He moved forward, repositioning a knee directly between my legs and nipping my bottom lip with surprisingly sharp teeth. With a downright filthy, throaty moan, my hands slipped downward and into the back pockets of his borrowed shorts. No protests, no resistance. 

_I win. Nymphomania always wins._

“That’s enough of that,” he dismissed, dismounting my bed and stretching his spine. I sat braindead for longer than he would’ve liked, trying to even out my breathing. He turned around, crossing his arms over his chest and looking slightly disgusted, “Take care of _that,_ then you have work to do.” Subconsciously, my head tilted to the right and my eyebrows came together. My confused stupor only irritated him more if the rolling of his eye meant anything. “Oh that’s right, you were too busy staring at my ass to listen.” 

“I’m sorry--” I tried to apologize but his hand came up, telling me it wasn’t worth the effort. 

“Make me an appointment with Dr. Michaelis immediately, I suspect we have many important things to talk about.” 

_Are you fucking serious._

Even my dick was offended. “W-Wait, you want me to--”

“And hurry up,” he commanded, smirking again and the complete, undisputed power he had over me, “I’ll be with Hannah when you return. Oh, and don’t forget your wank session, it’s unbecoming to go about your day distracted.” 

“And what was all that for?!” my voice raised. Why would he kiss me like _that_ if he wanted to see Sebastian?

“Practice makes perfect,” he replied, already halfway out the door, “wouldn’t you agree, Alois?” And with yet another curled lip and disgusted sound, he was gone.

* * *

I followed behind the procession to Sebastian’s office pissed beyond belief. Ciel lead us there with _Lizzie Midford_ on his arm, like he even knew what her name was. As soon as Ciel was hidden away downstairs she wouldn’t stop talking about him with her bullshit, gravity-defying pigtails and her annoying ass voice… 

“He’s sooooo brave for standing up for himself! You couldn’t do that, could you Alois? You’ll never be as good as My Ciel!!!!!!!” 

Just thinking about it makes me want to remind her that she has Premature Dementia, Extraordinary Obsessiveness, and Sleepwalking Bouts. That would shut her the fuck up. 

Next in line was Lizzie’s little disciple, Paula. She’s an ordinary looking girl with brown hair and brown eyes. She thinks she’s a fairy, and not in the adorable, make-believe way. She sewed little bells to her wrists and ankles so when she moved she sounded “magical”. But she wasn’t a bad girl, not nearly as bad as Lizzie, but she did encourage her which I _hate_. 

After her was Hannah. In the last night alone, her Paranoia had made her jittery. After some _quality time alone,_ I went looking for Ciel in her room because he said he’d be there. She was literally standing at the door when I knocked, opening it a smidge, looking horrified. “Alois, please,” she’d whispered, “get it out of here. It’s a doppelganger or something. That thing is not Ciel.” She’d been saying that since last night, and it did freak me out a little, but she hadn’t seen him in months. Neither had I. She said she’d seen his eye turn green, glinting like a cat’s. Maybe she saw it in the same light I had. It did look sort of green for a moment, but eyes can’t just change colour on a whim. I did my best to calm her down though, offering to let her come with us to Sebastian’s which she agreed to. She liked Sebastian, she trusted him. And as much as I didn’t, I want her to relax, for my own sanity. 

Then there was me, the hopelessly devoted nymph, though my Danny Zuko is nothing like John Travolta in _Grease_ , and I am no Sandra D. I know my place, and it’s not with him. It’s behind him, beneath him, wherever he needed me to be, but never beside him. It’s even more apparent now. There’s no way he cares about me, he made that obvious. The day before they put him downstairs was a fluke, he’d just been essentially raped, he needed someone to talk to, though I don’t know why he chose me. Last night was a fluke, he was depressed, dying, beside himself thinking about _Sebastian,_ the same man that had done god knows what just minutes before I’d gotten there. I still wonder why Sebastian had left the door open… Well, the point is that I know I’m not the one. Yes, it hurts, and will hurt forever. But I also know that the person meant to be with Ciel Phantomhive is certainly _Not Lizzie Midford Either!_

And that’s why I’m pissed. 

We eventually rounded the corner to the offices, and Ciel stopped, “Elizabeth, darling,” he drawled, taking a hot second to glare at Hannah. She squeaked and looked away, her shoulders caving inward. He smirked, looking back at me, showing off his handiwork. I half-smiled, pretending to be impressed while simultaneously feeling bad for Hannah. 

“It’s Lizzie! Call me Lizzie, Ciel! Elizabeth is so formal!” Lizzie’s shrill, ear-splitting voice startled Meirin who was running through the halls with a vase, making her trip and drop it with a loud shatter. While Lizzie was overreacting in Ciel’s grasp, Hannah jumped before rushing over to help clean it up, but Ciel looked unimpressed. 

“Alright, Lizzie,” he corrected himself, charming her with a rare smile, “I think I might go this alone, though it’s been a pleasure to enjoy your company.” She was hooked. I know that face anywhere. Her smile grew larger than her face, her eyes turned into hearts, even her nose started to bleed just the smallest bit. Done. Devoted. Welcome to the club, sweetheart, the pleasure’s not mine at all. 

“Okayyyy,” she swooned, hugging his arm tightly, a tactic I’ve seen many of the girls here use. It’s only effective if you have tits like Hannah’s, there’s more to feel, the whole game is spoiled with Lizzie’s underdeveloped mosquito bites. “Come back to my room when you’re finished, okay! Paula! Let’s go!” 

“Okay!” Paula sang, and the two of them took their leave, jingling away and leaving Ciel and I alone. 

“Geez,” I rolled my eyes, “that one’s… She’s a real piece of work.” 

“Don’t be rude,” he snapped, hooking his fingers together and stretching, seeming to be getting ready to run a marathon or something. “Did you make an appointment?” he asked, looking back at me but facing the door to Sebastian. 

“No,” I shrugged, still a little angry, not jealous, angry, “I usually just knock, say his name, and what time it is.” My nonchalance only annoyed him further. 

“I gave you one task,” he scoffed, glaring at me, setting me straight. I whimpered, my misplaced anger flying south for the winter. He turned back to the door, clearing his throat and knocking twice in quick succession. “Sebastian? It’s 10:30.” 

“Come in,” Sebastian’s low voice, addled by exhaustion, called out from behind the door. He probably assumed it was me. 

_Oh, you’re tired. Did abusing a sickly mental patient tucker you the fuck out? Trash._

“Don’t wait for me, Alois, I won’t be needing you for a while. So you’re dismissed,” Ciel waved me off without even looking. A flick of the wrist, that’s all I’m worth now. And Lizzie got a smile! I mean yes, I got a kiss, or a bit more than a kiss… but that was to convince me to run errands! It didn’t mean anything. It never means anything to any of them. I’m the only one that gets too invested, and I never learn. I begged the world for Ciel to be different. But here I am, standing outside a closed door. Pushed aside yet again. Cheated tears dripped down my nose and onto the floor, whipping through the air as I turned sharply on my heels, fully intending to run back to my room and never come out. I went through my memories as I staggered away from Sebastian’s office, trying to count how many times this had happened to me, who’d made me like this. I did do some pretty degrading things. But that was to take care of my brother. I had to put food on the table. 

_Oh god, is this my fault? Did I do this to myself?_

A loud, sudden crash stopped me in my tracks. 

An important thing to know about the office corridor: it was designed to keep words secret, but not tone. Not intent. Not noise. Muffled arguing set the hair at the back of my neck on end. Sebastian’s unmistakable voice, sounding furious, stole my breath. I couldn’t make out what he was saying, but whatever it was, it was bad. Immediately, I ran back to the door, forgetting how hurt I was and yanking on the handle. Locked. 

_Oh No! You knew Sebastian had done something to Ciel, and now look what you’ve done! Locked him in a room with his abuser!_

“Sebastian Michaelis, you piece of fucking trash, you open this door right now!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, beating on the door with my fists and gradually getting more and more frantic. Hannah and Meirin had come running, alarmed by my voice. Dr. Kadar, the new psychologist had poked his head out of his door as well. He exchanged a few worried glances with Meirin before stepping out cautiously towards Sebastian’s office. The office door flew open, banging heavily against the wall and rebounding about a decimeter. With the door gaping wide open, all in the hall could see. 

“Don’t touch me!” Sebastian growled, low and dangerous like a cornered dog. He stood behind his desk, holding Ciel an arms length away. Ciel merely stood, arms folded and smirk at full blast, soaking in Sebastian’s angered, confused fear. 

“What’s wrong, Sebastian?” Ciel asked in the most innocent octave his voice could sustain, “Didn’t you miss me? _I_ missed _you_ ,” he stepped forward, laughing when Sebastian tripped over his chair trying to put as much space between them as possible. “You look pale, Sebastian. Like you’ve seen a ghost.” Sebastian’s eyes widened, not knowing how to go about this alone. 

“Hannah, Alois, get in here right now! I know you’re out there!” Sebastian commanded the hallway. Hearing our names made Hannah and I exchange a worried glance. Maybe he’d seen us last night? Hannah was the first to comply, slowly coming up to me and taking my hand. I guess if she goes down, I’m going down with her. Coming closer, close enough to feel tension so thick you could cut it with a knife, the both of us could hear Sebastian whisper, “Look, Ciel, it’s your friends.” 

“Ugh,” Ciel whipped around, single eye glaring hard at me, “Well if it isn’t Hannah and Alois. I thought I told you you were dismissed.” An emotional rock huddled into my glass castle. Ciel chuckled at the hurt on my face, feeling pleased with himself. The hand in mine crawled up my arm to hug my shoulders, hurt clearly visible in Hannah’s eyes on my behalf. “Honestly, Alois. I kiss you once and you think we’re married,” Meirin and Dr. Kadar had snuck up behind us by now, hearing the whole show, “I like men, Alois. And you’ll never be a man. You’ll be stuck here, forever open for business. What would your dead brother say?” I stood still, eyes wide, jaw on the floor. 

_What would you say, Luka?_

“You and your type,” he spat, “you’re simply revolt--” The sticks and stones shattering my composure abruptly came to an end, his words suddenly silenced by a damp pocket square pressed firmly over his nose and mouth. Sebastian held tight as Ciel squirmed for several seconds before falling limp. Everything was silent. Meirin started to rush forward, but Dr. Kadar caught her by her arm, holding her back as he stared, completely shocked by the measures Sebastian had just taken. 

“Hannah,” he said after a while, “Please take him back to his room and don’t let him out of your sight under any circumstances.” She gasped, eyes growing like he’d just asked her to babysit Satan’s spawn. She shook her head frantically, her paranoia kicking in again. 

“But--”

“Hannah, just do it.” She stared down at Ciel who sagged in Sebastian’s arms. There’s no way he’ll wake up anytime soon, but Hannah clearly didn’t want to be there when he did. 

“Here,” I volunteered myself instead, “Let me take--”

“You stay right here, Alois.” Sebastian growled, eyes trained on me, “We have a lot to talk about.”

* * *

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done.” Sebastian stared down at me, arms folded, jaw clenched. His eyes felt like lasers, burning mine right out of my skull, getting angrier and angrier. But the scariest thing about Sebastian’s anger is how calmly he shows it. He sat perfectly still, breaking me down and not even having to say anything.

“I don’t want to talk, Sebastian,” I whimpered from the bottom of my throat, staring down at the floor. 

“Answer the question, Alois--”

“No,” I said, putting forth my full voice, “I want to go back to my room. I… I need to be alone.” 

“You broke into a secure location, and released a patient without my consent. A patient that had tried to kill you just days prior to his incarceration,” he stated calmly, stealing the words right out of my mouth for a long moment. Why am I always in trouble? I was worried sick about someone I care about, but it turns out he wants nothing to do with me. I’m just a toy. I had to stand there, absorb all that poison because I was scared he wasn’t safe. Why am _I_ to blame? 

“That’s what you’re so pissed about?” I squeezed my hands into fists, “You’re mad because I didn’t ask _permission!?_ ” 

“Do not raise your voice at me, Alois Trancy.”

“Why not?!” I wailed, most likely attracting a crowd outside, “Why am I always the one getting in trouble! All I ever do anymore is try to help and I’m so sick of being blamed for it!” All the bottled up rejection I’d been hiding bubbled up and out of my mouth, pushing hot tears from my eyes to burn hot paths down my cheeks. I’ve spent years as nothing more than the village slut. No one ever gives a shit about me. No one remembers I’m still a person. “And what the hell were you even doing down there? I saw you leave last night, and right after you left he fucking asked me to rip out his eye!?” I’ve reached the point of full-on caterwauling, screaming in Sebastian’s general direction while he remained silent. Falling from my high, I noticed I was standing, pounding my fists down into the desk. I sank to my knees, “Why is no one on my side, Sebastian?” 

“I’m on your side, Alois,” Sebastian replied quietly, “I helped you last night.” 

“What..?” I looked up in disbelief. “Why would you--” 

“Did you really think I didn’t expect it?” he interrupted. He sat up straighter, arms crossed, looking cross. “I’m not stupid, Alois. We’d only just talked about the issues pertaining to Ciel’s condition yesterday. Of course, I knew you’d do it. Not to mention I saw you and Hannah cowering behind the door.” I gasped, a million excuses storming in my head. 

“I-It was my fault, my idea. Don’t blame--” Sebastian closed his eyes, stopping me with a hand. He wasn’t finished talking, so I promptly shut my mouth. 

“I won’t ask you how you even found the place, but I will ask you this. Did you think before you decided to bring him back up here? Did you weigh the pros and cons? Or did your mental illness get the better of you.” His last statement punched me square in the stomach, knocking the wind from my chest. I coughed once, twice, a third time, trying to regain composure. Sebastian remained unfazed, unfeeling. 

“You motherfucker.” was all I could say, betrayed, staring into his nose bridge but not at his eyes. 

“What was it that you were planning to do with him, Alois. Or maybe, what have you already done.” His voice was even, so unbothered like he didn’t even care. He didn’t need to ask because he’d already accepted the conclusion he’d come to in his mind. 

“Sebastian!” I whimpered, sucking in unsatisfying breaths, trying to force myself not to cry. Again. His eyes narrowed, challenged and offended. 

“If I find any marks on that boy, Alois Trancy, mark my words--”

“He came onto me!” I confessed, clinging to his desk to hold myself up, “I tried, Sebastian! I told him to stop but he didn’t care, and as soon as I submitted, he stopped just short and asked me about _you!_ That’s why we came here in the first place, he manipulated me. He knew I wouldn’t’ve wanted to take him to you unless he had something to hold over my head.” Sebastian’s face had gone from foreboding to guilty in the midst of my rambling. As I sat in my crumpled pile of legs and broken feelings, he reassessed the concussions he was so adamant about keeping. And to the tune of my broken sobs that rolled up and down in my throat, he changed his mind. 

“I misjudged you, Alois,” he said finally, “both as your psychologist and as your friend. I hope you can accept my apology.” I pulled myself together, hauling my dead weight up and back into my chair, glaring hard at him as I went. I had a few accusations of my own that wouldn’t go unvoiced. 

“What did you do to him, Sebastian,” I interrogated as he found himself in the hot seat for a change. Rubbing moisture from my eyes with the back of my wrist, I did my best to make him as uncomfortable as I did. “You.. you did something to him downstairs, you fucking _chloroformed_ him!? That’s barbaric! You fucking Nazi, how did you even _get_ chloroform!” 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Okay stop,” The tension in Sebastian’s shoulders bled free, releasing itself as a thick wave of denial. “For starters, I am definitely not a Nazi. Despite the Germanic origins of my name, my line is entirely English, just as you are. Furthermore, I can explain myself if you allow me to.” I sat back in my seat, crossing my arms and watching him sigh after his defense. 

“Why is he so different. I know you know.” Sebastian thought hard, his brow furrowed before he made an executive decision. He turned to a file cabinet to his left, my right, retrieving a file labeled ‘Ciel Phantomhive’. My eyes widened, darting back and forth between Sebastian and the file. There’s no way he was going to _read from it_ , right? 

“I’m going to explain something to you and you must never repeat it to anyone. It’s strictly confidential, do you understand?” He said this with the utmost caution. “I’m trusting you and your relationship with Ciel with this information.” I nodded, sitting up and giving him my full attention. Secretly, I’ve been dying to know exactly what’s in his file, but I’d never told anyone about it. Paging through the folder with Ciel’s name on it, Sebastian checked his facts before speaking. “Ciel’s illness has progressed into a disorder called Dissociative Identity Disorder, meaning his brain has two distinct personalities.”

“You don’t mean…” Undertaker, after laying dormant for the last few hours, chuckled quietly to himself. Nefarious laughter brought all the pieces together. Ciel didn’t do what Grell wanted, and now he’s stuck in his own body. And Undertaker could do the same to me. This whole ‘distractive idea disorder’ or whatever he’d said was just a medical explanation. Sebastian called my name, pulling my attention away from panicking.

“Tell me, have you noticed anything particularly strange about the way Ciel has been acting towards you?” He held a pen to a blank section of Ciel’s file, ready to take notes. 

“Uh, yeah,” I said, coming back to reality, “He’s a lot more comfortable with himself. And he’s really really interested in you… I can see now that he’d do just about anything to get to you.” He took down brief, bulleted notes in that notoriously illegible doctor’s scribe. Once he was finished, he dipped into his pocket and took out a deep red pocket square, holding out to me. Before my brain could react, my hands flew up to cover my nose and mouth, eyes glaring down at the offending pocket square. “What the hell! Put that away!” I shouted, muffled by my hands. 

“It’s water.” Sebastian held the square up to his face, looking directly at me as he did so. When he didn’t pass out, I relaxed. Panic was replaced by confusion that Sebastian picked up on. “The real Ciel has had a trauma involving a kidnapping. Any sort of acts that imply kidnapping or nonconsensual sexual advances are the only triggers for his original personality.” 

“Oh, I see,” I mused mostly to myself, “So it was fake, but it surprised the real Ciel enough to make him faint.” In that case, it worked amazingly well. Though the amount of terror that must’ve gone through his mind didn’t sit well with me. Sebastian nodded, glad I understood so quickly. Meirin and Dr. Kadar would probably take more convincing, now that I think about it. 

“I have yet to discover the triggers for Grell’s side of the coin,” he added, paging through his notes to see if he’d made any observations before that he’d forgotten. 

Thinking about all this, all that’s changed, it made my brain hurt. When we rescued him last night, was that really Ciel? Or was Grell just really good at playing him? Something in my gut told me that the boy downstairs _started off_ as Ciel, but eventually turned into Grell. When did that change happen? I strained, digging deep into my memory for any clues, any details that might hold the answer. 

I gasped as a light bulb flicked on in my mind, “I think I know.” Sebastian looked up from his notes, listening to any second opinion I might have. But he’s not going to like it, “J-Just hear me out okay?” I raised my hands and my knees, getting back into my familiar defensive position. 

“What is it?” he asked, perplexed by my sudden timidness. He wouldn’t be if he looked in the mirror once in a while. He’s much, much bigger than I am, stronger than he looks, and I’ve been tap dancing on the line between friend and foe with him. He’s already been angry with me, though that seems to have gone away. I just don’t want to piss this guy off more than I had to. 

“I just don’t want you to get mad, Sebastian,” I started, shaking out my warnings through intimidated vocal chords before I could rattle off my theory. “You know I’m not trying to pull any fast ones. I just, I couldn’t help it. I didn’t know what else to say, I didn’t have any time. I--” A pair of hands pulled mine away from my face where they’d began to claw at my cheeks. Sebastian leaned in over his desk. 

“It’s okay, Alois,” he said quietly, gracing me with a small smile, “I know we’ve had a rough few days. We have a rather complex relationship, but no matter how interwoven our personal lives seem to be, this will always be a safe place for you. You can tell me anything. I apologize again since this became unclear today.” His face softened, going back to its original, friendly state, giving me the courage to say what’s on my mind. 

“I told him I loved him last night,” I said, “He wanted me to help him hurt himself. He was in so much pain, Sebastian. But I needed to get that off my chest or I’d regret it every day until I die. But when I said I’d do anything for him, something was different. Then just today, he spoke directly to Undertaker like they knew each other.” Sebastian’s facial expression didn’t change, remaining friendly and open-minded, though something dark brewed just underneath. I saw it, but before I could apologize, he changed the subject. 

“You said you’d do anything for him? And immediately you saw a difference in his behaviour?”

“Yes.”

He hummed, deep in thought for a moment before he released my hands and sitting up straight. “I need you to do something for me,” he proposed. I nodded my acknowledgment. “Offering to assist him in any and every way is Grell’s trigger. That and my presence alone, it seems. Originally, Grell was an auditory/visual hallucination brought on by the death of Ciel’s parents, but it seems like Grell has become a second complete personality. He’s aware of Ciel’s existence, but they are separate. They have different skill sets, different inhibitions, different directives, etc. Are you following this?” 

“I think so, but--”

“I need you to find a way to agitate Grell enough to reveal himself. Make him uncomfortable enough to drop this facade enough to see what he’s really like. Ask him about Ciel, ask him about things only he’d know. Anything along those lines, then report back to me.” Bombarded with information and tasks that weren’t quite clear to me, I sat still, trying to organize it all in my head. _Go find Hannah and Ciel, wake him up, agitate him, see what happens, go tell Sebastian._ It all seemed easy enough. I stood up, pushing my chair in and mentally preparing for whatever was in store for me. I know I’m heading into the lion’s den. 

“You’re not still mad, are you?” I asked, turning towards the door. 

“Furious,” Sebastian replied with a brighter smile.

* * *

I padded through the hallway with heavy steps and a heavy mind. _Ask him about the violin. Then you’ll know the truth, _I thought, feeling determined but still so unsure. Sure there were little things that were off about him, but if he’s really not the same, what if the real Ciel was gone? What if this was it, this manipulative nightmare? No, it can’t be. He’s just getting used to being upstairs again. He’ll go back to normal eventually. Right?__

__I quickly approached Hannah’s room, unaware of how I’d sped through the manor to get to her. She needed to know this as much as I did. Once I explained what’s happened to our friend, her motherliness will kick in and she’ll know what to do. At least that’s what I’m hoping. I knocked quietly at the door as not to awaken the demon that lived inside Ciel’s body. I’ve had enough abuse today. Hannah greeted me at the door with an index finger pressed against pursed lips. I nodded my understanding, following her soundlessly to where Ciel laid in her bed. Shockwaves of fear ran through his muscles, tightening his grip on the sheets and screwing up his face._ _

__“He’s been like that since we got here,” Hannah whispered, standing away from him. I took a timid step forward, thinking I might know what to do. But Hannah’s hand shot out to grab my wrist, making me gasp and spin around. “Don’t,” she pleaded, “What if you wake him up?” She stared at me, visibly shaking. I knew she was scared, but come on. He’s asleep. He hasn’t done anything to her yet. Rolling my eyes, I ripped my hand away, taking more confident steps towards Ciel as he slept._ _

__Curled in a loose ball and hidden beneath a thick, hot blanket, Ciel showed all the signs one might show when they’re going through a night terror. There was just enough room on the bed for me to sit and as I positioned myself, I could hear little whimpers and sobs coming from under the covers. It must’ve been a pretty bad dream. Or maybe he’s lost in his own mind, fighting off Grell with a stick. But there was one thing I was certain would help ease his torment. With Hannah protesting from two meters away, I brought a hand up to trace down the side of his face, wiping away sweat that had collected in large drops. Once my fingertips reached his temple, they migrated up and into his hair, scraping lightly against his scalp. Almost immediately, he relaxed, even letting out a small sigh._ _

__“How-- Alois, how did you do that?” Hannah whisper-yelled, debating in her mind whether advancing was a good or a bad idea._ _

__“Luka used to have night terrors,” I said in my full voice, “There’s always some sort of something you can do to calm someone when they're in a terror. I used to rub Luka’s back, between his shoulderblades. Ciel likes to get his hair pet.” Hannah watched as I rubbed and scratched at Ciel’s scalp, pulling loose even more hair. His breathing was even, his expression was serene. Confident that he wouldn’t attack her, Hannah joined me on the bed, even going so far as to smooth out the hair at the back of his neck. When he purred his approval, she smiled, letting her nervousness bleed out of her._ _

__“You’re really good at this,” she said, looking up at me, “I would’ve never thought of this. Thank you, Alois.”_ _

__“You’re welcome, Hannah,” I felt a smile pull at the edges of my mouth. Getting along with Hannah always felt so nice, so progressive, like I was actually getting somewhere in my being cooped up in an insane asylum. I thought that if I could get along with her, I could come to terms with what had happened to Luka. I could move on. And this was one of those moments, another rung on this ladder is beneath me._ _

__“Alois..? Alois…” a quiet, sleep-roughened voice called out. Hannah tensed, pulling her hand away, but I stayed calm, brushing hair from his eyes._ _

__“I’m right here, sweetheart,” I replied. His breathing stayed slow and his eyes never opened._ _

__“I’m so sorry,” he said, “I didn’t mean to say those things to you.” His peacefulness cracked suddenly, giving out to guilt and sadness that translated as a change in tone and a small twitch._ _

__“Oh no, it’s okay,” I reassured, brushing his hair with my fingers, “I know what happened now. I understand. You don’t have to be sorry, it wasn’t your fault.”_ _

__“But I don’t want Hannah to be scared of me,” he sighed, starting to get as upset as he could be while asleep. Hannah was taken aback, finally believing that this was the real him._ _

__“I’m not afraid _of_ you, Ciel, I’m afraid for you,” she took his hand, holding it tightly in hers, “I just want you to be happy and healthy, that’s all.” Hearing her voice seemed to ease Ciel’s mind in regards to her, but someone else ran to the forefront of his mind. _ _

__“Sebastian,” he called, “Where’s Sebastian?” Hannah and I exchanged a confused glance, unsure of how to answer. We stayed quiet as Ciel went on, “Why,” he asked, “Why did he do those things..? Why is he doing this to me, Alois?” Hannah and I could feel his breathing increase in speed as well as his heartbeat. He looked as though he was going into another night terror._ _

__“Ciel? Ciel, what can we do?” I asked, getting worried all over again. But Hannah, who remained out of the loop, said the exact thing we weren’t supposed to say._ _

__“We’ll do anything.”_ _

__“Hannah, No!” I shouted under my breath, but it was too late. Ciel stiffened, his breathing stopped, and it almost seemed like his heartbeat did too. His eyes snapped open, staring blankly ahead before turning his eyes towards me._ _

__“Anything at all?” he questioned in a monotonous, almost robotic voice. Neither Hannah nor I said anything, we just stared at the single _green_ eye staring back at us in stunned silence. “Well, there is one thing…”_ _


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alois Trancy's Point of View

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ch27 all finished! special thanks to vane!!!!

“What is it you need, Your Highness?” a tall, thin, purple-headed trio asked in unison, rolling their eyes as I rounded the corner into their vision. I cringed, gritting my teeth at that phrase. _Your Highness._ That’s what I’m known as, especially when Claude was alive. All the patients hated me for the special breaks he gave me, even going so far as to sarcastically wait on my hand and foot. I thought they really thought of me like that, like I was their king, but that was then. Right now, I stood before three students of Psychology, mentally preparing for what I’d inevitably have to do to earn a favour. 

“Evening, gents,” I purred, strutting down the hall, “Thompson, Canterbury, Timber.” I acknowledged them one by one as they stood in a wall, separating me from the rest of the staff side of the manor. They really did look like Claudes-in-training. They stood tall and elegant, displaying no emotion, even taking the time and energy to dress like old people in vests and bow-ties. 

“What do you want?” The three of them read each others’ minds, reciting exactly what the other two were thinking. Their eyes followed me as I leaned my back against the wall, stretching out my back with an exaggerated hum. My eyes closed as I yawned, covering my mouth with my fist and looking back at them through my lashes. 

“I’m bored, boys,” I sighed, “Won’t you _play_ with me?” I hated doing this, parading myself around and hoping they fall into my trap. But if I didn’t earn this favour, I couldn’t obtain what Ciel needed. 

I swept my hair behind my ear, observing the three students through my eyelashes as I conjured images in my mind’s eye that I knew would make me blush. I could feel their eyes on me, traveling down from my flushed face to my belly. But instead of succumbing they turned to each other to whisper. 

“Is he trying to seduce us?” 

“That’s what it seems like, in’ it.”

“I don’t know, mate, maybe he’s actually bored.”

“You idiot, this is His Highness we’re talking about. He just wants us to sate him.”

“How typical.”

With open eyes, my annoyed glare ignited into Death itself as they gossiped right in front of me. How unbelievably rude. “Excuse the shit out of me, but I’m still here.” I grumbled, catching their attention once more. They quieted, staring down at me with nonchalance. I decided to come clean, seeing my Plan A wasn’t going to work. “Look, you’re the only people in this bloody shack over eighteen that can leave. I need you to do something for me.” 

“And there you have it, lads.”

“What makes you think we’re the _only_ ones?” 

“Surely someone else can--”

“Will you _please_ just let me talk! God, damn it!” I stamped my feet, brandishing my fists as I yelled over them. I know, I’m not at my most mature. Three identical pairs of eyes ripped themselves away from one another to look down at me as boredly as they possibly could. 

“What is it that you want, Your Highness.”

“Your Majesty.”

“Your Imperial Godliness.” 

_Your Imperial Godliness!?_

“Oh just forget it!” I huffed dramatically, turning swiftly on my heels and throwing my hands up. I stomped off in a fit of frustration, actually crossing my arms and pouting. I’d almost made it to the end of the corridor before those god forsaken voices called after me, sounding smug enough to make me turn around and think of punching their ugly faces. 

“Oi, Your Majesty,”

“Next time you decide to seduce us,”

“Bring Hannah.”

“I like her boobs.”

“I like how they jiggle.”

“Excuse me?” I blurted out, horrified by the quiet snickering that seeped out of their smug faces. “That’s my friend you’re on about. She’s fifteen, you indecent fucks!” 

“You are.” they replied, turning their noses up and turning their backs to me. 

“What do you crave that you couldn’t find here, anyway?” Canterbury asked alone, none of them bothered to face me. 

_Here goes nothing. Let’s hope they don’t report me._

“C-Cigarettes…” the words stuck in my throat, “and a box of matches.” I admitted, though I was almost certain they wouldn’t get them for me. Not without Hannah. I looked down at their feet from across the hall, trying to act strong. “The matches being the most important for some reason.” Thompson and Timber snickered to themselves, beginning their leisurely walk into the staff corridor. Canterbury stayed behind, staring down at me. 

“Come to our office in an hour,” he said turning to rejoin his brothers, “You know our price.”

* * *

“Are you out of your mind!?” Hannah whisper-screamed, silently closing the door to her room behind her, “Why would you even _think_ about asking the triplets!? You’ll get in trouble!” She nervously shoved her hair out of her face, pinning it behind her ears, but light tremours that wracked her body let strands of periwinkle wiggle free and fall back into her face. She was drowning. Falling fast into her Paranoia. She hugged tightly to herself, inadvertently pressing her breasts together and reminding me of the shameful favour I still needed to ask of her. 

“Hannah, I--”

“Shhhh!” she hissed, lunging to press her palm tightly to my mouth. “The demon is asleep. Don’t wanna wake him.” 

I protested quietly, prying her hand off my mouth to barely get out a muffled, “Hannah, listen,” before she clamped a hand around my wrist, staring at me with mismatched eyes. Even her prosthetic mimicked her anxiety. 

“We need to go.” Pulling me from the door to her room, she yanked at my wrist with strength I didn’t know she had.

“Fuck, Hannah wait--”

“Sebastian will know what to do, let’s go.” She decided, dragging me behind her. I resisted, digging my heels into the rug as she tried to walk away. Feeling me start to pull away, she looked back at me over her shoulder, silently confused for a long moment. “C’mon,” she urged, tugging my wrist. I stood still, shaking my head but consequently flipping hair out of my eyes like a douchebag. She went from confused to irritated quickly, her face turning sour.

“Hannah, there’s something--”

“You can tell me later,” Hannah snapped impatiently, as she waving her arm up and down frantically.

“I can’t!” I snapped back, stubbornly throwing my fist down. She scoffed, tugging on the wrist that joined us, still annoyed with me but casting wary glances towards the door she was so eager to get away from. The more she stared at the door, the more the time weighed on me. Canterbury said an hour. What happens if we’re late? “Hannah. Just. Listen,” I said, pausing between each word so she would calm down. She complied, keeping her eyes trained on the door. I kept my voice down for her peace of mind, I wouldn’t wake the demon she feared. “I know what Sebastian wants,” I said, relaxing once I knew she was listening.

Hannah titled her head softly and let go of my wrist “Do you really?” She hugged her waist again, feeling hopeless. 

“Yes I do,” I reassured her with a smile. She returned it timidly, the idea of Sebastian taking things over putting her at ease. Seeing her soften opened a window of opportunity I used to spit out, “he thinks that it’ll be easier to separate them if we make Ciel’s demon reveal himself.” Hopefully, that sounded convincing enough to make Hannah stay. 

“That sounds like something he would say,” she looked away from me as she muttered, “I trust you.” She looked so… young. Sometimes I forget just how young she is, how young we both are. We’ve been stuck in this dump for years, having to grow up quickly just to survive. But she stood before me with such uncertainty. Any of her bravery or intuition that made her seem older was gone. She was scared, probably wished she’d wake up from this nightmare in the arms of her parents. And I’m the asshole that’s going to ask her to flash her cans for cigarettes.

“And in order for us to do that, we need to get on the demon’s good side,” I reasoned, starting to feel sick to my stomach. Fifteen is little in the grand scheme of things. She’s still a little girl. “So we need the cigarettes he asked for.”

“Ugh, no. Alois you’ll get us all in trouble--” 

“Look, Hannah, I…” I trained off, looking down at my feet. She sighed, coming closer to me. Her trembling hands swept hair out of my eyes. 

“Alois, I know you want to help,” she said softly, “but I don’t think this is what Ciel would want. He wouldn’t want you sneaking out and getting locked away for his sake.” 

“Canterbury already said they’d do it,” I half-lied quickly, letting our eyes meet. I could tell she didn’t believe me. “But they need a favour… from you.”

..

“Well, well, well.”

“Look who decided to join us?”

“Miss Annafellows,”

“Always a pleasure to see you.” 

Hannah stood in the center of a cramped office. Three identical young men stood over her, easily a foot taller than she. They looked mildly surprised, pleased with their luck. The office work was so dull, and babysitting madmen that eat their own shit was even worse. Finally, in walked something interesting for them to toy with as much as they wanted. Because she needed something, and she’d do anything to get it. 

Hannah looked downward and to the right, searching for me in her peripheral vision. I hid just around the corner, trying to look as natural as possible. It’s strange. I’d never had a problem simply hanging about, but now that I was spying on something so important and _dangerous_ I was antsy. I looked so plopped into the picture that the custodians gave me looks of confusion as they walked by. I made faces at them, brushed golden hair from shining eyes, hoping I played the character of myself well enough to pass. Pressed hard against the polished walls, I struggled to glance around the corner without being noticed.

Hannah slowly, tentatively approached the triplets, her head hung low, avoiding all eye contact.

 _Agh, stop acting like a guilty puppy, Hannah,_ I thought, breathing heavily. She could fuck this whole damn operation up if she didn’t stand her ground; they’ll tear her up if she looks too weak.

“Hannah, what brought you to our neck of the woods?”

“I-” Hannah breathed, her voice catching.

“Speak up, Hannah,”

“We can’t hear you.” 

The triplets laughed, absorbing her apparent discomfort. Hannah shuffled her feet, squirming. They watched with sly smirks, eyeing her condescendingly.

“Cigarettes,” she mumbled. Mocking laughs pierced the stiffening, thick air.

I gulped. Seeing a tense shiver run up Hannah’s spine from all the way at the end of the hall. I would be so much better at this. I’m used to being eyed, objectified, pursued. But the triplets wouldn’t listen to me. Those jackals always need something in return, and it’s always something I can’t get myself.

 _Look up, look up, look up,_ I chanted in my mind, staring frantically at Hannah’s back as she wilted like a flower in heat.

“I want cigarettes!” she blurted. “Can I just have some fucking squares?”

They leered at her, chins up, eyes peering down. Sly smiles carved their way across their narrow faces. Two of them chuckled. I stifled a frustrated cough, dust whirling up into my nostrils. 

“What will we get in return?” the three of them egged in unison. 

Hannah glanced out the window just behind them. Naked, skeletal branches tapped lightly against the glass. Her chest rose and fell, rose and fell, gaining speed as she grew more uncomfortable. Her fingers hesitantly traced the edges of her off-white shirt. Slowly, steadily, she raised her head. Her eyes met and surpassed theirs; her gaze went beyond them, beyond the walls of the asylum, beyond this world, beyond this universe. Piercing through their immutable, her posture stiffened and corrected itself. Defiantly, she lifted the bottom of her shirt up, up, up, ever so slowly, in a way only she could. Over her shoulders, over her head, she let her shirt float down and onto the floor. 

The triplet’s eyes widened in surprise. Timber’s mouth opened, his smile widening. Weak beams of light bounced off her standard-issue, yet still somewhat flattering bra. Her breasts were cupped perfectly, even for a particularly well endowed fifteen year old girl. 

_Now you’ve got’em, Hannah,_

There she stood, blooming before them, like a new rose kissing the air above a field of common weeds. Deftly, with an imperceptible tremble, she unclasped the bra and shrugged it off, letting it fall from her body without care. There she stood, her round, perky breasts olived and indifferent in the thawing light. The breeze of their collective breathing coalesced and lingered in the warm air around them. 

“Did you gents think we’d get this lucky?,” drooled Thompson, enraptured by Hannah’s plump, ripe breasts. 

“Not at all.”

“I thought she’d run away.”

“But I’m not complaining.”

“Agreed.”

As their eyes greedily feasted on her harvest, a smirk began to take root on her face. To them, she was merely an object for consumption, but she and I knew better. Subtly, she turned her head towards the door, acknowledging my presence and our plan. 

_We’re almost there. Get the cigarettes_ I held my gaze on her, hoping to telepathically project my thoughts into her mind. She seemed surprised when I maintained my eye contact with her through the crack in the door, but quickly remembered I don’t exactly walk on that side of the track. Though her boobs are, indeed, a sight to see, They don’t really do much for me. 

As if she heard my message, she turned her head back toward the triplets. 

“The cigarettes,” she said cooly. 

“Oh, uhm, right,” 

“You earned it.”

“Absolutely.”

Snapping out of their reverie and hastily reaching into their respective pockets, they each produced a box. Thompson and Timber held matchboxes and Canterbury had the cigarettes.

The way they stood, shaking like fools, I could barely keep quiet. Poor babies, probably haven’t seen a naked girl before. Though they were much older and acted so high and mighty, their confidence bowed its head to female anatomy. 

Hannah floated toward them, almost inviting them in with the steps she took. They drew closer, stupidly eager. Slowly, dreamily, she took the box from each pair of clammy hands and slipped them into the pocket of her sweatpants. Smiling, she looked into three sets of brown eyes thankfully, then, in an instant, slapped the centermost triplet sharply across his face. Canterbury and Thompson stood there agape, frozen in shock from her sudden frigid burst.

“You’re vile. The lot of you.” Then turned around and shakily grabbed her bra and shirt.

..

“Oh my fucking god!” I exclaimed, following her as she fled from the office where she’d left the triplets with their jaws on the floor. “Hannah! You Temptress! That was amaz--”

“Don’t you ever ask me to do that again,” She hissed tearfully. She pressed her shirt and bra to her chest as her breathing spun out of control. She didn’t even think to put them back on. Her eyebrows came together, small upset sounds sneaking out as she breathed. She shoved the matchbooks and cigarettes into my chest before turning away and running towards the dormitories. I stopped chasing her, standing in the middle of the hallway. 

_I’m a horrible person._

* * *

Silently curling my fingers over the door, I peered into my room, casting my eyes into the left side. It was dark, too dark to see the small body I knew was hidden under the covers, but I could hear soft, even breaths that gave away his presence. Ciel laid fast asleep, arms hooked around his thighs and knees brought up to his chin. Even in sleep, he had such a strong aura. A force that grabbed my hips and pulled me forward and to his side. I crossed the room quickly with my hands deep in my pockets, holding tight to my newest offerings. I found myself standing over him, pulling out the cigarettes and matches and hiding them in the drawer in his nightstand. 

“And who dares disturb my slumber,” Ciel growled sarcastically, his voice sending shivers up my spine as I turned back to him. 

“I-I brought you what you asked for,” I said, scared but also a little triumphant. God damn was I proud of Hannah, “I even got you extra matches since they’re so important.” 

Slowly, so slowly, he turned over onto his back, looking up at me through his eyelashes and smiling tiredly. His emptied right socket sagged, seemingly uncomfortably, leaving me to wonder why he hadn’t replaced his glass eye or even his patch. Maybe he didn’t notice? Maybe Grell didn’t realize the real Ciel would be concerned. 

“I haven’t the slightest clue what you’re talking about,” he sighed in sleepy content that was very out of character for the real Ciel. He looked up at me with such fake innocence, it almost made me roll my eyes. He wasn’t serious, was he? This was definitely the worst Ciel impression I’d seen him do yet. “but I just _love_ gifts!” he exclaimed quietly, sitting up in bed and raking his thin hair out of his eyes. “What do you have for me,” he asked, clearing his throat and pressing his lips together in an interested-but-trying-not-to-show-it kind of way.

Becoming disenchanted with standing over him all the time, I eyed the spot next to him, turning my nose up, “Why don’t we have a chat first, Ciel. I miss how we used to chat.” I started my plan, my hastily written, mostly improvised plan of agitating him enough to make Grell reveal himself. Just annoy the crap out of him. I said Ciel’s name slowly, deliberately rolling it around in my mouth like it tasted too sweet to let go. 

Like a flash of lightning, his eyebrows twitched together, making him scowl for a millisecond before grudgingly scooting over to make room for me. “You sly fox, what a line to make your way into my bed, Alois Trancy,” he grumbled, moving over to the other side of the small bed. Normally, I’d be offended, but I couldn’t help but smile, shaking my head as I crawled in beside him. 

“You give yourself too much credit,” I muttered under my breath, sitting above the covers and crossing my ankles. I sat up on a stack of pillows, tilting my head up like I was sunbathing. “So Ciel, what should we talk about?” I glanced over, leaning back and smiling, trying to act as casual as possible. “You’ve missed quite a lot of gossip while you were away.”

“I’d love to know what it is you have for me,” he whined, his arms crossed and pouting like a spoiled brat, “but you won’t tell me. So you pick the topic. Let’s get this over with.” I thought for a second, scanning the room for ideas of what Grell might not know about Ciel as a person. My eyes fell upon his violin, my first go-to. But I myself didn’t know how good Ciel was at playing it, so I couldn’t judge persay. I knew he was incomprehensibly smart, but how do I phrase that? His nose scrunched up as he glared hard at a spot on the carpet, wholly pouting until his curiosity was sated. I knew just how to appeal. 

“Let’s talk about Sebastian,” I suggested, deciding to start off on neutral ground. That one blue eye flicked up to mine, momentarily forgetting what he was pouting about. 

“You have my attention, Alois Trancy,” an interested voice mumbled. Good, I have him. He sat up, folding his legs up underneath himself and glanced at me. “What has he been up to?”

“Oh, nothing,” I mused, watching as he leaned in closer with amusement, “just missing you, darling.” I couldn’t help but notice a small swooning sigh, nor could I stop a small giggle in response. “Quite the catch, isn’t he? All lines and edges.” He smiled, looking a touch _embarrassed_ at himself. He crawled even closer, daring to rest his head on my chest like a little kitten.

“I must say, I haven’t yet found myself agreeing with you more than I do now,” he purred, tracing little patterns with his finger along my collar. “What an especially suave specimen.” I willed the jumps in my heart to be still as tiny fingertips prodded my skin, outlining my collarbones.

“And he’s _so_ smart,” I added, “I bet he’s the only one here that’s as brilliant as you are, Ciel. You’re so educated.” He scowled again at Ciel’s real name, stopping with his index finger and thumb at opposite ends of my throat. 

“You’re right. Intelligent conversation is so hard to come by in this dump. It’s clear that only _some_ of us could keep their mouth shut long enough to learn anything.” He traced my throat with the pads of his fingers, making his silent threat clear as day.

_He hates hearing Ciel’s name._

“Hannah was telling me how quick-witted he is.” I started again, ignoring the hand at my throat for now. “Remember that story you were telling them in the car?” I asked, “He knew every word! Oh, what I would’ve given to see it. What was it called?” Ciel was still for a moment, staring into my eyes as I smiled. I, for one, actually knew how to be innocent. The longer I waited for my answer the more frustrated he became. 

_You don’t know, do you Grell…_

“I heard you play violin.” I leapt off the bed swiftly, pulling myself from underneath him and turning to the smallish box beside his bed. He hadn’t really had the chance to unpack before he was sent downstairs. Inside, the violin case sat undisturbed for the several months that it’s been here. “I mean you do _have_ one,” I said, quickly placing the case on the floor. It opened, revealing a beautiful, timeless violin. As much as I wanted to stop to admire it, I had to keep going. “Only a grade A douchebag would lug this thing around if he didn’t know how to use it.” I moved to hand him his instrument, but he stopped me.

“I-I’d rather not--” he stammered. I couldn’t help myself and shot him a triumphant glare. Ahh, the familiar feeling of having the upper hand. Upper hand, oh how I missed you! 

“It’s too bad you two hit such a rough patch,” I said, diving back into the topic of Sebastian. Tension released what little muscle Ciel had, letting him sit comfortably once again. I resealed the violin up in its tomb as caringly as I could before standing up. With a cross of the arms and the pull of a smirk on my lips, I felt like my old, bitchy self again. “I mean he _did_ attack you,” I reasoned, “Maybe he has a secret agenda, or something. He could be a bad guy!” The real Ciel would defend Sebastian, tell me I’m being stupid. He’d be curt, like the little brat he was. 

“A good man’s past makes people curious,” he mused, “But if he is a _bad_ man, then it makes me want to see even more.” A sly, provocative smile made me certain. I’d done it. I drew him out.

“I know who you are, Grell. It’s okay, I won’t tell anyone. Not even Sebastian.” I opened the drawer of his nightstand, producing my gift. “Let’s go to the kitchen. I feel like a smoke break is in order.”

* * *

Thin fingers traced the edge of a great marble countertop, surveying it, deciding the best area for him to sit. A spot beside the stove proved clear enough, and he hoisted himself up onto it, settling in quickly with a quiet hum. He threw a leg over his lap, looking up at the ceiling and stretching his spine with a satisfied hum. His shirt rode upward, exposing his hipbones and navel. His belly dipped so far inward, it made his hips look like they'd puncture though his skin they were so high and sharp. Each bump of his ribs was pronounced just underneath taught, pale white skin. His right hand combed his hair out of his eyes slowly, fingertips dipping into the cavity of his eye socket as he made himself comfortable.

“Are you hungry?” I couldn't help but ask, feeling the strongest urge to feed him before he fades from existence. He scoffed, rolling his eyes in amusement. He reached forward, catching my chin in his hand and pulling me forward. 

“Oh Alois, you’ve gone soft,” he mused, looking into me with a single blue eye. On the surface he was kind, sweet even. But the tone in his voice couldn’t have been more disinterested. “Let’s skip to the part where you give me what I want.” What a stuck up smirk. It curled into his cheeks with distorted arrogance that the real Ciel would never have. _He_ carried himself with confidence, not narcissism. 

I grudgingly dug through my pockets, pulling out a slightly dented box of Juniper-brand menthols and one of the matchboxes. That foxish smirk etched into his face grew into a genuinely excited smile. He squealed through pearly white teeth as I handed him the box, unhappily I might add. Ciel had such a perfect body, I wish he would be free to stop his conscience from pumping carcinogens into it. 

“Oh Alois, you little cherub!” he exclaimed, professionally flipping the top off and picking his favourite cigarette from the pack. He smiled at the little green band that separated the filter from the rest of the cigarette. “How did you know these we’re my favourite?” he asked, taking the filter between his teeth with another sick smirk. I shrugged, striking a match against the side of the box. It caught fire quickly, a small tongue of it lapping the air, glowing softly. He leaned forward, excepting my assistance as he sucked up the tongue of flame, watching me as it leapt from the match to the end of his cigarette. Sighing a grey cloud of smoke, Ciel threw his head back, holding his cigarette in his hand. “Marvelous, indeed…” 

“Yeah…” I answered, standing awkwardly beside the counter, watching the doors that divided my attention. And that wouldn’t do at all. A wiry hand planted itself firmly on my shoulder. 

“You’re not going to leave me to smoke alone, are you?” Ciel whispered, a dark, amused laugh hidden in his words. 

I decided it was better to comply than resist. With the green box floating into my vision, I chose the one to the right of the empty slot left behind by the one in Ciel’s mouth. I held it awkwardly for a brief moment, thinking about how I should go about this. Ciel watched me, smugly amused with watching me pretend I knew what I was doing. I just took it into my mouth after a second of feeling embarrassed, pressing it lightly with my lips to stop it from falling.

“That’s it, now you’ve got it,” he laughed, watching me with a wide, condescending smile. Grey smoke oozed out in plumes from between his teeth. 

_Y’know what… fuck it. Go big or go home._

His hand drifted up to bring the cigarette up to his lips. The end of it glowed orange as he sucked up another breath of smoke and menthol. I took that as a chance. When he met the peak of his inhale, I stood on the balls of my feet, pressing the white end of mine to the burning red side of his. Sucking the filter of my cigarette, I stole flame from him, using him to light up for myself. My cigarette started to burn and shed small ashes to the floor. He looked a little surprised at first but that wicked, catlike expression returned quickly, even more devious than before. 

“That's called butt-fucking where I come from.” The vulgarity sounded so sour on Ciel's proper, innocent little tongue that I had to chew my own tongue and try not to look as revolted as I was.

“And where is that,” I asked halfheartedly, feeling the smoke start to make me sick. With low, hummed laughter and a smirk, he brought the cigarette back to his mouth, sucking in a great amount and exhaling it through his teeth.

“A place where little boys ought not go adventuring, Alois.” I barely suppressed the urge to roll my eyes, focusing on the cooling in my throat. With each exhale, I felt calmer, less anxious. I still didn’t want to be discovered smoking in the kitchen in the middle of the night, but nicotine definitely helped take the edge off. Yet I still don’t see how this momentary calmness is worth all the devastating side effects cigarettes carried. 

“I think I’m getting a little tired Ci--” A dark growl ripped its way up Ciel’s throat, making the thin hairs at the back of my neck stand on end. I didn’t dare look at him, but I could feel his eye narrow. 

_Fuck…_

“C-C… S-Sorry… I’m sorry, Grell…” 

“That’s what I thought.”

“I’m sorry…” My vision went cloudy for a moment, he blew a mouthful of smoke into my face. I sat perfectly still, letting him be angry. 

“You’re boring me, Alois,” he scoffed, screwing his face up in disgust, “Entertain me.” 

“Well I'm sure Sebastian's in his room, go see if he's in and willing,” I offered, hoping that he was finally agitated enough for Sebastian’s plan to work. Ciel bit, seeming to ponder the idea of sneaking into Sebastian’s room while he slept. The interested smirk on his face concerned me into silently apologizing for sending an incubus to Sebastian’s room. But Ciel’s face fell as he came to an obstacle while constructing his plan.

“Shit, is it… is it north of here? No that’s the offices…” he whispered to himself, snuffing out the last of his cigarette on the countertop. He worried his lip between his teeth, trying to visualize the path to the staff dormitories. “Take me there,” he commanded, hopping off the countertop. I stayed behind, gathering the matchbox and cigarettes with my own smugness.

“Maybe I will, maybe I won't,” I replied, suddenly seeing why he even bothered with me, “You don’t know where it is, do you Grell,” I prodded, glaring at him from the corner of my eyes. Two more sarcastic drags of my cigarette marked it’s end. I snuffed it out, tossing it into the bin beside the counter.

“Fine. If you won’t take me there, I'll ask someone else” pouted like the whole world was against him. He let out a small huff of disagreement, refusing to look in my direction. Gaining the upper hand once more, I smiled.

“If anyone finds out you've been in there, he'll be fired and sent to prison,” I practically sang, shrugging and smiling like a shot fox. “So it’s your choice.” He gasped, dropping his jaw like an offended old lady. I was actually surprised when he didn’t say ‘well I never!’ or something like that.

“What do you want.” He spat with an irritated tone in his voice, his eyebrows slightly furrowed inwards. He remained sat on the counter, pouting with his arms crossed like a five year old. It was both adorable and so goddamn annoying that I didn’t exactly know how to respond.

“I want to talk to him. I want him to tell me he's okay in his own words,” I told him honestly, thinking it was a fair enough bargain.

“This is ridiculous,” Ciel stepped off from the counter and stood a few paces away, facing the wall where all the bigger boxes and tanks are stacked. He sighed, closing his eyes, “Alright, take me to where he is, you little wretch. Do it or I’ll starve you.” He must’ve whispered threats to Ciel, spooking him into offering his help. Quick steps carried him across the floor towards the wall until he was nose to nose with a tower of kerosene tankards that stood taller than he. 

He froze, going rigid and tense. 

“To exercise the reaper…”

I caught a glance of what he was looking to, taking a few steps towards him. “Ciel..?” I called. He didn’t respond. “Ciel, what’s happening..?” I closed up the space between us, coming to his left and hugging myself to his arm. His only eye stared blankly at a tank of kerosene, rapidly reading the words printed on it like he was searching for hidden codes. “The kerosene? They use it to heat the house and use the ovens and stuff. What do you--” I tugged on his arm, trying to get him to explain, but he cut me off with a fearless whisper.

“Purification by fire.” He said, not moving a muscle. His eyes strictly focused in the kerosene and his body steady as a stone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "A good man's past..." Grell Sutcliffe, Kuroshitsuji


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please reread ch27 if you are not caught up. i added more. this chapter will not make sense if you do not read the previous chapter in its entirety. special thanks to vane, simon, and clara.

The ancient Egyptians called it ‘Nun’. The Greeks called it ‘Chaos’. Historians refer to it as the primordial void, the primeval waters, the empty expanse. Nothingness. 

I float, weightless, beneath the waters of a vast, placid lake, the water completely devoid of movement. Even the molecules that created it seemed frozen in their place. Which way is up? Which way is down? 

Who cares?

I float, effortlessly, beneath the waters of a vast, placid lake, the water so thick, I couldn’t move, yet so thin that I could see and hear with full clarity. Straight ahead, I can see it: a boat. Within this small dingy slumbered the new thoughts that occupied my mind. I know of a place, the cusp of consciousness, where the nothingness kisses a sea of stars. That’s where the boat is, where I used to control the tides of this void. But here I lie, having drowned in water with so little fight, I’m too ashamed to reach for the surface. 

I float, peacefully, beneath the waters of a vast, placid lake, growing accustom to the glassy-clear picture I see before me. My mind’s eye. I didn’t hurt, didn’t suffer. I wasn’t happy.

But who cares?

* * *

A whole week came and went, bringing more prisoners to rot beside us in this house. It’s been a whole week since Alois figured it out. Through the guidance no doubt provided by Sebastian, he’d been able to penetrate this void, reach in and coax me to wakefulness. Here I am, conscious once more. 

As aforementioned, a new soul was fed to the beast. A girl with olived skin and long dark hair had occupied much of everyone’s time with her premonitions. She said she saw the future, she could read our minds, and she thought it to be her duty to tell us we’re all in danger. Some thought she was lovely, some called her insane, some called her Countess of Crazy, Alois and I called her _Clara._

Grell hated her.

“Can you believe her?” he whined to Alois who seemed like he’d aged since he’d started keeping up with my conscience. Or maybe _I’m_ the conscience now. “She told me I was going to burn in Hell!” He raked my hair back with an exasperated sigh. He’d had the decency to trim it to a more suitable length. Perhaps to encourage greyish-blue locks to grow and restore my head to it’s proper thickness, however thin that may be. 

“Then she entered my personal bubble, putting her disgusting lips practically _in_ my eye and whispered, ‘My little Ciel, please be strong, Mama is with you!’ It makes me sick.” Alois nodded, making the mistake of trying to actually _converse_ with my conscience.

“I like her, actually,” he disagreed, “She said I was precious. ‘Baby, hang in there. I love you darling!’” he smiled, remembering how happy her words of motivation had made him, “Sometimes, everyone needs a little positive reinforcement.” Having neglected himself for the past several months in favour of worrying about me, Alois’ hair had grown quite a bit, falling into his eyes. He was paler, thinner, visibly unhappy. But the kind words of some stranger had helped improve his overall mood. Of course Grell had to ruin it. 

“Alois, you can’t like her.”

“But why?” he protested, pale blue eyes growing sad and confused.

“She’s trouble! I mean look at what she made that little shit _do_ to me!” He roughly yanked down the collar of my shirt, showing off long red scratch marks that ran from my jaw to my collar. Though, this is my body, I admit to gaining enough control late last night to scratch at myself. I knew it would only drive me further into limbo, but I’d give anything to express displeasure.

“Well, maybe he wouldn’t do that if you let him speak once in a while! He can’t breathe, you’re suffocating him!” Alois had reached his limit. He clung to my shoulders, forcing me to look into his eyes.

“Good!” Grell spat, shaking him off in a huff. “You’re a disgrace, Alois Trancy. And stop sniveling! God, you’re helpless!” Hot tears burned red paths down Alois’ cheeks as he cried for me. I wanted to comfort him, to at least call for Hannah who could calm his nerves. But Grell stormed off towards the offices in search of excitement. All this Ciel business put him off quite a lot, I suppose.

..

"SEBASTIAN SEU CUZÃO, LEVA A MERDA DESSE PIRRALHO PRA LONGE DESTE BURACO INFERNAL E CASA LOGO COM ELE! E LEVA HANNAH E O ALOIS JUNTO, PORRA!" Clara screamed in a language from far away lands. It sounded like a mixture of French and Spanish, but I couldn’t quite place it beyond that. She stood on the tips of her toes, pounding on the door to Sebastian’s office with fury. After mere seconds, the door opened and Sebastian stepped out. Clara quieted, looking up at him with determination. 

“Now, Clara, we’ve talked about this,” he began patiently, “If there is something you need, you have to speak calmly. I haven’t exercised my Portuguese in years.” So that’s what language she spoke. Grell and I both wondered what a Portuguese speaker was doing in the UK, but agreed it was best not to dwell.

“Sebastian, Ele te ama,” she reported like she was on the news, persistent and convinced she was right. She spoke nice and slow, looking into Sebastian’s eyes for signs of misunderstanding. “Você o ama também. Você deve deixar este lugar juntos antes que seja tarde demais.” Suddenly, simultaneously, the two of them flicked their eyes over to me, seeing me standing nearby. All was silent for a long moment.

“I’m afraid I have business to attend to, Clara, but someone else will see to you.” Sebastian gave the girl a pat on the head and a knowing look before heading off down the hall. This seemed to be the answer Clara had hoped for as she calmly exited the office hall as well.

“Ugh!” Grell exclaimed, stomping my foot like a prissy teenage girl, “Great. She made Sebastian go away. Now what am I supposed to do?” 

_Perhaps you could play the quiet game. First one to talk loses._

“Ha ha, very funny. See? I’m laughing.” He turned on his heel, fully intending to sulk in my room until Sebastian returned from his business away. A few paces ahead, an old man in a fine suit hobbled around the corner into the office hall. Spying me quickly, he smiled, puffing out the staccato laughter he was known for.

“Tanaka, how nice of you to join us.” Grell greeted less-than-happily. Tanaka paid no mind, most likely learning that the foul temper my voice gave to him whenever we chatted wasn’t really me. I was glad for it, that I remained in his good humour. 

He retrieved a slip of paper folded into a tight square from his breast pocket and handed it to me:

_Come to my room._

_\-- Michaelis_

* * *

“Sebastian,” I heard my voice sing, knocking twice on the door in quick succession. The force dislodged the door from it’s mostly closed position, swinging it open and revealing total darkness briefly interrupted by a thin sliver of light. “Sebastian?” my voice called again. I searched the darkness through the water, it acting as a looking glass into the tangible world. 

“Come in.” a deep, steely voice called quietly from the dark. 

I saw them. Two red eyes, aglow and locked on mine, stared out from the darkness, accompanied by a grinning mouth of pearly white teeth. With an inaudible gasp from my physical self, the waters began to quake in fear and excitement, making it difficult for me to see. _Grell… you’re afraid?_ I watched closely, interested in my fearless conscience’s sudden trepidation. 

“Don’t be shy little one,” two rows of sharp, unbearably white teeth parted and bent, shaping luring words like how a wolf would bait a rabbit, “Come inside, and close the door.” Tentatively, my legs stepped into the dark. My eyes never left that spot as I stepped into the room. I gazed into those bright red eyes, they were drawing me in, reeling me by my hips as I moved forward. Holding it lightly with the ends of my fingers, I brought the door to a close, leaving me in pitch black without a clue as to where the voice was coming from. 

“Sebastian..?” My conscience sat up in his metaphysical boat, searching the darkness for any signs of movement. He made my voice stammer with innocent, fearful uncertainty, but even from down here I could tell he was immeasurably intrigued. 

I was turned facing, assumedly, the door, when a heavy hand gripped my shoulder, gently pulling me back to rest against a body much bigger than mine. I gasped, freezing like a deer.

“Alas, we meet in a more _private _setting, Grell,” an edged voice purred in my ear.__

“You…” at first, I thought my conscience to be on my side, wary that I might feel disquieted being spoken to in the dark in this tone. I thought he’d protest or at least request that the lights be turned on, but instead he said, “you said my name.” The sound of lips peeling apart into an undoubtedly fiendish grin shook the waters even further out of focus. “I love it when you say my name,” my voice swayed, swooning at my reaper’s given name. The hand at my shoulder was joined by its twin, slowly tracing downward to my forearms, seemingly exploring by touch alone, though some sickening feeling inside made me feel like he could see me just fine. 

Turning me around, I was coaxed and prodded by unseen hands until my thighs met a pair of knees, allowing me to deduce that he was sitting down. With my legs making their own bold advancements, I took the liberty of climbing into the lap I’d came to, straddling a lithe waist I couldn’t see. Sebastian chuckled as my eyes grew accustomed to the dark. I could see his vague silhouette oozing self-satisfaction, undoubtedly smirking. 

“My,” he purred low in his throat, “how lucky that this body houses such a _willing_ personality.” He traced lightly down my sides, discovering the less-than-standard issue attire Grell had stolen from Alois as it hugged tight to my skin. For a moment, I was glad for the darkness, it hid how shamelessly my conscience chose to dress me, though this reprieve didn’t last long. Sebastian let out an impishly amused huff, “Stealing from your roommate? One could almost say you were planning for this, Grell.” 

A full-body shiver shook the waters out completely, leaving me blind but able to feel as Grell threw my arms about Sebastian’s shoulders. “I’ve been dreaming of this, Sebastian, not just waiting,” he whimpered, already breathing light fleeting breaths. A low, feral growl played to the right of me, trailing downward from my ear to my shoulder, tracing my neck with his nose. My throat coughed up an erotic little _ah_ as my conscience threw my head to the side. “Do it, Sebastian. I know you want to,” Grell begged with barely any voice. He knew Sebastian wouldn’t simply comply, but now he had the option and the opportunity to do so. 

_It’s only Sebastian,_ I tried to reason with my fear, _he wouldn’t do anything insane. He’s trying to help me. So I won’t be afraid._ But flashes of the slavers, of Claude, of Alois even, burst in the sky of my mind like fireworks, sending jolts of panic up my spine. Shockwaves of uncertainty played into Sebastian’s fingertips as they barely brushed my skin, ripping a dark, amused chuckle from his chest. 

"Sensitive, are we?" he mocked me, hands sliding up over my legs, tracing the top of my shorts before traveling under my shirt to whisper over my ribs. Feather light touches over my sides made me shudder and exhale in the same fashion. My hands, having been squeezing at each other, parted and chose to claw lightly at Sebastian's shoulders. "Patience is a virtue." 

The hands disappeared, leaving coldness in their absence. "No," Grell whined in my voice, "I've _been_ patient, Sebastian, don't stop, I can’t wait any--" The words were quickly swallowed into a deep gasp followed by a quiet mewing I'd kick myself for the rest of my life for uttering. Sharp teeth skidded along my neck, surveying it, mapping out the best place to sink in. 

"It was only a matter of time before you were strong enough." 

"W--Wha..?" My chest arched up, heaving unsatisfactory gasps for breath as the newly discovered sweet spot of mine was prodded again. A cool tongue lapped lightly at the ridge that traced up to the edge of my jaw. The first real, committed touch he's given me. It had my hips squirming, my fingers tightening on the shoulders they clung to. 

"I can feel your heart beating," he echoed a recent line from Grell's vulgarities in the last week, "do I intrigue you?" In truth, my heart did beat like a caged bird, frantically flapping its wings. Grell tried to laugh but it left my throat as a bothered groan as my spine curled into the hand pawing my belly. But with a quick squeeze for good measure, both hands retreated into the dark. 

"Ugh! You absolute _bastard_!" Grell complained, swatting at Sebastian's shoulder, “You’re the one who called me in here, why haven’t you kissed me yet? You Devil, you _must_ know how to treat a lady!” 

_Thank you, Grell. Now I have to end my life._

Through the dark, an unforeseen hand swept up and into my hair, violently scraping across my scalp pulling back. I grunted, following the hand backward to escape the stinging pain shooting through my scalp but falling short when my neck stretched back to its limit. My right hand flew up to my head, trying to pry the fingers away but they held fast with a steely grip. 

"Don't bite the hand that feeds you, Grell," Sebastian's voice was just above a whisper pressed lightly against my throat, "Not after I coaxed you into power at last." Silent puffs of hot air breathed easily along my neck, his nose traveling upward against my skin. 

"Wha..? What? Sebastian you're h-hurting me. Why are you-- ahh!" With a good yank, the hand in my hair ripped out a good chunk, thin strands of hair collecting at my collar and making me itch. 

"You owe me," he growled. He exhaled the pent up frustration with a heated breath, puffing more hot air along my skin. "You have teased me for the last time, Grell Sutcliffe. You wouldn't even be here without my help." 

"F-Fuck." 

Grell submitted to raw anger and brute force, leaving me blind and frighteningly confused. 

_Sebastian... You were.._

"You were helping me this whole time? I thought you hated me for breaking your precious little psychopath," Grell dropped his unconvincing charade, revealing himself fully. Sebastian finally loosened his grip, smoothing out my hair and easing away the pain. 

"Do you honestly think my kindness was intended for that brat?” he questioned, his fingertips running over my ribcage once more. He pressed a smile to my collar, whispering into my ear. “I _baited_ him, gained his trust so the day you emerged you'd know just where to go. Now here you are." A shock zipped up my spine, sending waves of goosebumps to rise from my flesh as those barely-there fingers pressed themselves to the brand beneath my shoulder blade, tracing the pattern with confidence. 

_W...What..?_

I felt myself pull away, out of Sebastian’s grip to languidly pull my t-shirt over my head. With every emerging inch of fresh skin, metaphysical me grew more and more concerned. Eyes that glowed hot like fire watched my every move, roving over my skin as I tossed my shirt away. “It was chaffing me,” Grell excused, whispering into Sebastian’s ear. I moved to stand from his lap, turning away mere inches before those hands were back, squeezing my waist, anchoring me down in a bruising grip. 

“Well, well,” Grell purred, carving a smirk into my cheeks. My hands withdrew from his shoulders to trace his jawline, forcing him to look up at me. A near silent growl, gruff as all get out, was very unamused but didn’t say anything. Grell chuckled, “It seems as though you’ve finished talking, but you won’t let me leave.” The tips of my thumbs caught long strands of glossy, black hair, tucking it behind his ears. I leaned in, connecting our foreheads. Sebastian hissed, pressing the soft of my belly with his thumbs, perhaps discontent with our sudden closeness. Grell only grinned. “Oh, poor thing. Haven’t you teased yourself enough? What are you waiting for? Devour me, Bassy.” 

I abruptly surged forward, through the dense waters of control, towards that small boat. As quickly as I moved, the water only rippled lazily, growing still once more. 

_No. No, this can’t be true. There’s no way this is happening!_

Those sharp teeth have been growing hungrier and hungrier, teasing themselves by dancing over my jugular. But they would have their satisfaction. “Forgive me if I indulge in the smallest of samples.” Grell ran my fingers through the hair at the back of Sebastian’s head, egging him on. His teeth were unbelievably sharp. As in I literally couldn’t believe it, and I could barely feel them pierce my skin. But I gasped at the cool tongue that lapped away my blood as it surfaced. 

I watched, mortified, as I floated steadily upward towards the little boat. A wild, red mane spilled over the side. Grell’s maniacal laughter filled the air, delighted at his luck. How could he not be now that the one thing he pursued had been pursuing him this whole time? Never had I assumed I could elicit any sort of feeling from Sebastian other than almost-friendship, nor was it my intention to procure anything beyond it. But through everything that’s happened in these last few months, Sebastian was the only person I’d taken a strong liking to upon meeting him. I doubted Hannah, I doubted Tanaka, I hated Alois passionately, but I felt strangely calm with Sebastian. He had everything thought out and tended to even before I had time to worry. Was all of that fake? Had he tricked me? 

_Lying scoundrel._

With a final thrust of self-determination, I met the edge of the water. It was thinner here, less dense, less lethargic, less numb. Long tresses of fiery red hair dipped into the water, close enough for me to reach. With every bit of strength I had in myself, I grasped the hair, wrapping it around my fingers and wrist and ripping downward, pulling Grell by the hair down into the water. 

_This must end._

Another gasp left me as a frantic whine. My eyes opened wide, suddenly alert, unaddled by pain and deep-seeded, primitive longing. It was dark, yes. I couldn’t see anything but faint outlines and vague silhouettes, yes. But _I_ could see. I could feel the sting of nails raising paths of red, roughened skin along my back just above my hips. I shivered at the cold, nervous sweat that collected at the nape of my neck. 

Without really thinking, I ripped Sebastian’s face away, tearing the wound he’d made and making it bled even worse. With my other hand, I curled my fingers into a fist, drew back, and drove it to land directly to the bridge of his nose. Old habits die hard. With the trajectory and inconvenient closeness, my punch landed but didn’t cause much damage. But it did surprise him enough to take his hands off me. His hands muffled the quiet curses he whispered as they eased his pain. 

I tried to leave his lap as gracefully as possible, but my moment of adrenaline had passed and the foul disgust set in. By the time I stood on my own two feet, I was roughly clearing my eyes of unwanted tears. All the fear and self-loathing I’d felt after receiving my brand, and after murdering Claude. Clouded my mind, congealing and coagulating into that god forsaken voice. 

**“You ugly, disgusting, foul, disfigured, hideous little shit!”** Grell roared. I covered my ears, squeezed my eyes shut, tried to grimace away the pain of words as Grell tore through my brain, ripping through neurons as he raged, caged once more. **“Don’t you get it!? No one wants you! Your parents didn’t want you! Your bullshit friends don’t want you! Sebastian NEVER wanted you because you’re a worthless nothing! You’re lower than dirt!”**

“Shut up!” I wailed, shaking like a leaf. My nose started to drip, adding to the tears that reddened and dampened my face. “Just be quiet! I won’t listen to you any more!” The lamp light flicked on, illuminating the small room just a touch. But it was enough to startle me, enough to inspire me to look up at a relieved, yet concerned Sebastian. With his hands raised in careful surrender, he took a slow step closer, like I were some kind of animal. 

“Don’t you dare come any closer!” I screamed, my voice cracking. I exhaled whine after pitiful whine, trying to cry my way out of this mess. I slowly grew accustomed to my body again. I had to lean inward, resting my elbows at my navel to regain my strength. I felt sick to my stomach, exhausted beyond belief. 

“Ciel!” Sebastian called me, confident in my return. He knew Grell would never snivel. “Oh my god, it worked! Are you okay? How do you feel?” 

“ _’How do you feel’_? How do I feel!?” My blood began to pump faster, speeding up the angrier I became. The bruises on my throat grew darker, more blood oozed out. I was mostly naked. And all of this, designed by my only true ally. And he asks how I feel. 

“I recognize that this might’ve not been the most gentle approach--” 

“I trusted you! You were the one fucking person that couldn’t betray me!” 

“Please let me explain,” he groveled. He worried about how much I trembled, how rough and dodgy my voice sounded. Perhaps he thought I’d hyperventilate myself to death. But that would be too sweet a death. He took another step closer, reaching out for me, to try his best at pretending to be human at all. 

“No!” I protested, backing up towards the door, abandoning my shirt completely, “Stay away from me, Sebastian Michaelis,” I condemned, “I’ll see you in hell.” 

.. 

I rounded the corner into the dormitories, running fast through the halls just to get here. Silvery moonlight washed me out, lightening my skin even further as I darted past the tall, stately windows. My chest ached from strenuous exercise, my throat burned as raw, unbridled sobs ripped past, my working eye blurried with tears. But I was me at last. I could feel my feet hitting the carpet, the air whipping past. I would’ve celebrated had this night’s previous events had not taken place. My skin crawled with goosebumps, remembering hands all over me, how my conscience egged him on. But why? Sebastian, you were the one that called for me in the first place. You knew what you were doing. You were planning this. You’ve always been planning this. 

I threw open the door, flinching as it slamming into the wall beside it. And suddenly I was angry, furious even, like I’d explode or breath fire. Alois woke with a start, throwing off his thin blanket and looking at me like a deer in headlights. 

“Alois,” I growled, glaring hard at startled blue eyes, “go wake the girls.” He sat perfectly still, eyes wide with caution and disbelief. He called my name softly, afraid of it, afraid of the punishing retort he’d receive if he was wrong. “Why aren’t you moving,” I growled, standing in the doorway, “I gave you a task.” 

“It’s...it’s really you?” he called breathlessly, leaping soundlessly from his bed and running to me, “Oh my god, Ciel. I miss you dearly.” He sighed with the sweetest smile I’ve seen him produce yet. But sweetness is wasted on the cold and the bitter. 

Growling low in my throat, I ripped his hands from my face. His smile fell into a frightened frown second before I swept the collar of his shirt up into my fist, pulling his face up to look him in the eyes.“You’re not listening to me!” I barked, “I’m not a baby! Don’t dote on me!” He gasped, hands balling up into loose fists. 

“Wait! Don’t be mad! I’m sorry! Just-- what happened!?” he cried, conflicted by my presence and mood. He wanted to hold me, I could tell his muscles ached for it. But I’ll never be held again. 

“Just go get the girls, Hannah, Clara, and Lizzy. And Tanaka, find him too. Get them far away from the house. Don’t come back.” His wide eyes were confused, searching for an explanation. He wanted to know the time, if I was hungry, where my shirt was, but could tell I wasn’t in the mood. 

“Ciel, what’s happening?” he begged, on the edge of tears. Desperate hands brushed the hair from my eyes, sweeping below them with their thumbs. “Just-- come here,” he offered quietly, “Lie with me. We can talk about this,” he smiled happily, “You look so cold, maybe we can--” 

“No Alois. Just do what I say.” I let him go, commanding him to run his errand and leave me at peace. I made my way to my nightstand, kneeling before it and flicking on my bedside lamp. 

“Fine, I’ll go get them.” Alois agreed, “Then I’m coming back for you, right?” 

“No.” I retrieved a pen and a few pieces of paper, quickly writing in my best penmanship. “Get them out. Get yourself out. Then stay away.” I burned through paragraphs and pages while Alois gaped like a fish on dry land. Suddenly, all the pieces came together in his mind. 

“N-No… No, I’m coming back for you!” Realization shrank his pupils to pinheads. He tore at his hair, shaking his head like it wasn’t true. This was a nightmare. He’d wake up and it would all be better. We’d be happy. But he was wrong. I took a glance at my letter, folding it in thirds before turning to Alois who’d begun to cry. 

“Take this and get out of here.” I handed him my letter. Watching as those eyes turned red and irritated. He choked on sadness but did nothing towards changing my mind, afraid of becoming an obstacle. He stepped closer, taking my letter. I didn’t expect him to kneel down, eyes locked on me as he fished out my copy of _Tales of the Macabre_ from the box of my things. He wanted to keep it, holding it close to his heart as he pleaded for me to rethink this without words. 

“When do I open it?” 

“You’ll know.” He nodded, hanging his head. He had a final request. I could see it on his face. 

“Will you kiss me? F-For this last time?” 

“No,” I denied coldly, “just go. I have work to do.” 

_It’s time to see just how fragile you really are, Doctor._


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a short but poignant chapter. let me be clear, it's supposed to not make much sense, so before you get all bent out of shape, that's all purposeful.

Of the three who changed my life, for the surviving two, Hannah and Alois: 

“For the most wild, yet most homely narrative which I am about to pen, I neither expect nor solicit belief. Mad indeed would I be to expect it, in a case where my very senses reject their own evidence. Yet, mad am I not --and very surely do I not dream. But to-morrow I die, and to-day I would unburthen my soul. My immediate purpose is to place before the world, plainly, succinctly, and without comment, a series of mere household events. In their consequences, these events have terrified --have tortured --have destroyed me. Yet I will not attempt to expound them. To me, they have presented little but Horror --to many they will seem less terrible than baroques. Hereafter, perhaps, some intellect may be found which will reduce my phantasm to the common-place --some intellect more calm, more logical, and far less excitable than my own, which will perceive, in the circumstances I detail with awe, nothing more than an ordinary succession of very natural causes and effects.” -- Poe, _The Black Cat_

I have yet to explain a phenomenon of which no words can hope to explain, yet I’ll attempt to do so anyway, as they will be my last mortal words. What a pity: my inevitably famous last words will be a composite of my despondent musings as well as the musings of those I idolize. First, I’ll get this straightened out with the words of Poe, “In the strange anomaly of my existence, feelings, with me, had never been of the heart, and my passions always were of the mind” _(Poe, Berenice)._ To explain to those I say I love, this is me merely expressing my infatuations with your minds and personalities in words you will understand. As cynical as this my sound-- and I am entitled to sound this way-- I’m not to be misunderstood, for I _do_ love you, one of you most irrevocably... though it is not in a way that I can articulate, or in a way you could ever understand.

Secondly, I do understand, and deeply appreciate, your fondness of me. I don’t recall a single moment in time after the death of my parents where I’d felt quite so accepted. This did not go unnoticed, I just underwhelmed my expressiveness in this sense, feeling it would’ve been too much, and caused problems in the future. 

Thirdly, and this is where I break into individual sentiments, I will take this time to tell the three of you exactly what’s been on my mind:

Hannah, as I try to think of another that may parallel your kind heart, I find myself with no result. To even ponder what my experience here would’ve been like without you would be a tragedy in itself. I can’t articulate how much weight your friendship has taken off of my shoulders. For the first time in a long while, I’ve been able to act like a kid-- and not feel uncomfortable with it. I was so used to having to think and act much older than I am, and I can’t thank you enough for giving me back some of the time that had been taken away from me. If I could give you a last bit of advice it would be this: Do not second guess yourself. Hannah, you’re very bright, with a thirst for knowledge. Asking for that knowledge won’t hurt you, it’ll only make you stronger. Don’t be afraid to make new friends, learning from their stories as you have done with me. Anyone would be honoured to be close to you, know that for the rest of your life.

Alois, I must say now, I did not expect to get along with you the way we do. I expected to play nice until we were alone, and smother you again. But something happened as you may have guessed. I read _your_ note. I discovered a new type of fondness-- infatuation, bordering on obsession-- but fondness nonetheless. At first I didn’t know what to make of it, let alone how to go about snuffing it out. Then you and I had that talk-- as to its contents, I will say no more-- and I understood you, and your motivations. And I must say, I was surprised, but after the initial shock, it made complete sense, and though not in the way you might’ve wanted, your plans did succeed. It gives me happiness to call you my friend. I’ve found that part of you that holds all of your sadness, longing, need for attention-- just as anyone else-- and capacity to understand. I’m glad I could be the one to uncover these things within you. And If I could give you a last bit of advice it would be this: Do not sell yourself short. You’re so much more than your disease, and submitting to everything that walks by isn’t good for you. Show everyone what you’ve shown me, and you’ll receive your share of love, I promise. 

Sebastian, here is where I find it hard to write, where do I begin? I guess, I’ll start by explaining what’s been happening to me, though I know you won’t believe. I guess you could say I am possessed, taken over by this alternate version of me-- as that’s what I’ve come to understand about my tangible conscience. I, the inhibitions and dispositions woven together and referred to as “Ciel Phantomhive,” have been lost, hidden within the anger and vengeance of my ‘other self.’ This ‘other me’ abused you, Sebastian. It attacked you with the very words you speak to me. I wish I could blame someone else, but, in truth, there is no one to blame because that was _me._ I know that there is no Grell. He is just the name I gave to the more heightened emotional outbreaks I seem to have, but all of those emotions are held by, experienced by, and owned by me. Which means _I_ am the one who attempted to murder Alois, _I_ am the one who succeeded in murdering Claude, and _I_ set this house on fire.

So, in a way, I guess I do love you, or could have if I believed what I believe now. I haven’t experienced enough to be certain, nor do I wish to stay alive any longer to confirm it. Nor do I wish to stay long enough for you to reply, knowing I’d surely die by your response, whether it be positive or otherwise. My conscience was drawn to you from the very start, and I blamed his apparent promiscuous nature, but I, ashamedly, admit that it was, indeed, my own budding promiscuous nature. Though I am absolutely sickened by this fact, it did constitute meeting you, spending time with you, and feeling wanted, and exploring parts of human existence I didn’t think I’d ever partake in. So, I can thank you for that. I can’t give you advice, as you are the bank I take my advice from. I can’t thank you enough for doing what you do. You’re the only light in this darkness that surrounds us. And I loved every moment of your attention. 

It’s time for me to go, and it’s at this time that I wish I believed in an afterlife. Part of me is scared, terrified that once everything goes black it will _stay_ black. And I’ll be stuck in a never ending ocean of darkness. I’ll drown in those calm, unmoving waters, and never return. After tasting a light happiness that resides with Life, I am saddened that I feel such a strong desire to leave it. But, as the Law of Conservation of Energy states, energy is not lost, it is simply invested in other things. I’m stealing warmth and happiness that was not meant for me, and in my death I can return it to it’s rightful owners, the three of you. 

If there’s merit in asking one last favour… don’t forget about me,

Ciel Phantomhive.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a very very special thanks to Saddith, jess, vane, and simon for all your help and support.

The halls were still and quiet. 

The thick oriental rugs, sucked free of any moisture by the sun and vacuum cleaners during the day, now grew fat, overindulged until they became swollen, swampy bogs of cotton and kerosene. Even the smallest steps of a spider’s graceful toe made deep, sodden impressions in the carpet, created pools of foul-smelling, foreboding potential. Those gluttonous rugs swallowed every drop offered to them, filling up until they couldn’t hold any more. But the tapestries and draperies cared so deeply for the rugs, having been chosen by a meticulous eye to match them perfectly, that they kissed up excess fluid, absorbing it into themselves to bring comfort to their lover below. 

Networks of hallways with their carpets and curtains were soaked to the bone in liquid fire, paving a clear and thorough path for the Angel of Death to pass through. No stone was left unturned. Even the knobs of heavy, deadbolted doors were laced in death. The warm April breeze, promising an early summer, baked the kerosene-soaked corridors, swallowing huge gulps of chemical smell and burning the fine hairs inside the noses of the asleep. 

I stood by the window, watching as the trees shivered, naked in the spring air. The moon hung low in the sky, emitting a pale blue light. No stars, no lights from the manor or from the village nearby; it was dark, quiet and peaceful. 

My spider returned to my web after three quarters of an hour, dropping the last, mostly-empty tankard of kerosene at my feet. I heard the sound, more forceful than was necessary. He’d _thrown_ it down in an attempt to stave off tears. He tried to sway me, convince me to leave with him, but I held fast, staring at the moon. He hovered for a moment; I could feel his wide eyes growing wet and heavy. But he didn’t resist. He backed away, whispering his love for me.

“I’ll never forget you, Ciel.”

And was gone. 

..

I breathed in the heady scent of melting wax and burning hair. Great plumes of orange and yellow flame had consumed the corridors, trapping terrified mental patients in their rooms with violent roars. Some tried their hardest to escape the flames but found locked doors and met their demise. If they weren’t burned to death, they suffocated. Thick clouds of black, blinding smoke swelled to fill entire floors, pressing into the high walls and sealed-shut windows until they groaned at their full bellies. Thin glass panes shrieked their suffering, unable to bare it any longer like suicidal madmen at the brink of oblivion. With a final whine, one by one, entire windows exploded, vomiting heat and smoky pollution into the clear night sky. 

I was unable to suppress or still my frightened jumps as each window gave up, submitted themselves to their end. With each window opening up, with each shattering scream, the panicked voices of the other patients grew louder and louder until they howled in pain and misery.

But it was bearable. 

In fact, it pleased me. 

My place of being had been painted red. Metaphorical lamb’s blood dripped from the ceiling, leaving me and my space untouched by the fires of death for now. And from my window, the corners of my lips curled upward into a satisfied smile. 

Quick, inaudible feet—twelve in total—fled into the night, running quickly to the safety of the willow tree to the right side of the manor, just outside my window. Another set, slowed with age and decrepitude, hobbled quickly after them. Alois had done as I asked; forewarning Hannah of the coming Judgement and sparing her. Elizabeth and Clara followed closely behind them. Soma Kadar and Meirin seemed to have caught on. Though I hadn’t previously authorized them being invited to live on, I found myself unoffended by their escape, and quickly forgot about it. Tanaka, being slower than the others, made his way to safety and this turned my lips up even further. But this smile lacked the sadism I harboured for the others; this one was allowed to be more genuine. 

As the chosen survivors convened under the weeping tree, Alois’ eyes drifted over the small crowd, taking a head count before locking onto our shared window. He searched, focusing hard on the lower corners of the wide window to seek out little me. I remembered then that I’d pre-described the method in which I’d reassure him of my lasting strength. Only when I fell silent would he mark the end of my existence. 

I stood away from the window briefly, turning to my left and facing my side of the room. Three quick steps carried me quickly to my neatened bed. Sitting atop the coverlet, my violin waited for me. The realization that no one here had ever heard me play before this night drifted through my mind as I lifted it into my hands. A family heirloom, in perfect condition: this violin had been crafted for my Grandfather, passed from his hands to those of my father, who had given it to me on the ninth anniversary of my birth. To think I thought this instrument to be stuffy and boring. I cherish it now over every material possession I’ve ever owned. 

I watched it as it seemed to watch me, failing to ignore the light trembles that wracked my spine. Whether they be from fear or anticipation, I did not know. My good eye closed as I let out a sigh, breathing lightly as I so vividly imagined how well my favourite pieces will blend beautifully with the chaos of death and destruction all around us. I could speak my mind through my instrument, and they would hear. 

And they _will_ applaud. 

With the care and reverence of an artist, I retrieved my paintbrush, taking care to run my fingers over the strings and revel in their perfection. I had never cared for anything as much as I cared for my violin; never doted on any one object as much as I did this – not even myself. Resting the instrument beneath my chin, breathing cold air and wood polish, I ran my bow across the strings, and sang a C from my window, catching the attention of the crowd beneath the tree. I stood within the reach of the moonlight, letting its long fingers cradle me in light. 

My easy, almost trance-like gaze quickly found Alois’ wide blue eyes. I observed the relief move him to smile, how the moonlight reacted with the paleness of his hair, but I saw him not. For I could not see, could not hear, could not be anything when I played my violin. 

“Shall I play you a song?” I asked rhetorically, staring at Alois but knowing I had the attention of all that stood beneath the willow. Even as great walls of flame had begun swallowing the manor whole, their jaws unhinged like giant snakes, the gentle breeze that made it all possible carrying my soft voice straight to their ears. Alois nodded, beginning to smile a dreamy, loving smile as he watched me like some Montague dog. Hannah approached him from behind, standing beside him and staring up at me with the same confused, saddened, awestruck look on her face. 

My two friends, do not worry, I will impress you. I will make you remember me. 

“Capriccio Number 5 in A minor,” I announced, standing as tall as 162 cm could stand, “Half speed.” 

A brief moment of silence, I allowed myself. I inhaled through my nose, exhaled out of my mouth, and begun. 

Though the first measures are slow, do not be deceived. Even at half speed, the first scales strike me right in the center of my being, taking me to a place where there is no fire, there is no audience, there is no hurt, no pain, no weakness. I started off at a leisurely pace for Paganini, only aiming to seem mildly talented. All in all, it wasn’t an overly complex piece when played at half speed. 

Even seconds after the piece began to play, I found myself enthralled in watching the tips of my fingers pace up and down the frets. Soon I was ripping through scales and arpeggios and had to to slow myself down to honour the aforementioned ‘half speed’ bit. I quickly realized that holding back was beginning to feel uncomfortable. Even my fingers ached to race across the strings at speeds the Demon Violin would be proud of. But he lies rotting in a hole somewhere. I didn’t even attempt to impress the common men below. For some strange reason, or maybe it wasn’t strange at all, only one person’s face flashed before my eye. 

What would Father say?

_Faster, Ciel. Mind the tablature. Honour it for the masterpiece it is._

A cold sweat had gathered at the nape of my neck as the barrier I’d hastily put up came crashing down at the sound of my Father’s voice resounding in my head, rattling around in my skull. And suddenly everything became clear. The wind blew from the northwest, it was 3:30am, and I’ve spent years of my life yearning for my father’s voice. And here it was.

_faster, faster, faster_

So maddeningly fast. The abrupt speed of my fingers as they burned their way through frantic notes that made my violin scream in pain, startled the dreamy smile from Alois’ face. The faster I went the more concerned he looked. He averted his gaze uneasily, staring at the ground to his right. Formerly clean progressions and arpeggios had grown chaotic and jumbled as I doubled speed yet again in a hasty attempt to project my need for attention from my father onto Alois. I found myself running on speeds I never knew I could achieve. My heart was pounding hard in my chest, trying to beat out my violin in rapidity. But Alois would simply not look up.

“Watch me!” I growled at the grass below. Hannah was the only one to look up, locking eyes with me as the very Devil himself channeled unholy speeds into me. Along the way, Capriccio Number 5 had morphed into an evil, maniacal version of Capriccio Number 3; a frantic and chaotic convolution of the original composition of Paganini’s design. Soon, the impressive clarity of speeding ostinatos played at different octaves became a blended mess of almost _human_ babblings of lament. I sawed down on my strings and pressed my fingertips so deeply into the frets that my violin began to feel abused, squealing its discontent to me like a pained songbird. 

But he would not look up. 

“Look at me!” I began to beg, feeling my eye widen as it pressed its gaze deep into nothing in particular. I wasn’t even looking at my friend, or anyone else for that matter, as I wept bitterly lonely tears, sighing breathy, frightened sobs through my violin. 

“Look at me…”

Alois reluctantly tore his eyes away from the grass, pained by ordeals both physical and emotional, of seeing me so frantic, so beside myself, and being unable to comfort me. But his hands had flown up to shield his eyes before I could harm him further.

Why couldn’t he look at me like that? Never before when I recited for my father did he even attempt to seem interested. A businessman too busy to humour his son, now look at what it’s done to me. Look at what I’ve done? What I’ve become? Where I am? Here I stand, in the window of my dormitory, drenched in cold sweat, violently wailing through the voice of my instrument as I watch the flames of my demise flicker orange and red flecks over the faces of the last handful of people that will ever see me again. Then I will burn to nothing, in the fashion of my ancestors. Leaving behind what?

I could not suppress a shiver as my fingers and bow slowed to accommodate the legato longing of Capriccio Number 4. Thick, heavy tears dripped down the apex of my nose, collecting in large drops that soaked my cheeks. A harsh, breathtaking sadness swelled within my throat. 

“Why won’t you watch me?” I asked the air, my voice thick with the blubbering groan I tried to suppress, “am I not good enough?” 

Alois _finally_ looked up, cheeks streaked with red, “Please, Ciel. _Please_ play something happy,” he begged, burying his hands in his hair and gripping tightly, pulling at his head like he couldn’t bare it any longer. 

A big burst of molten gold light illuminated my window, accompanied by the loud cracking sound of a door slamming hard into the wall and the cackling of fire demons. They hissed and snickered, wrapping their long fingers around the doorframes and pushing themselves inside my sanctuary-no-more. They had claimed my only method of escape for their own, and I was trapped inside. 

“Ciel.”

With a sharp scream, several strands of horsehair bow-string snapped, curling up and whipping red scolding marks across my knuckles like how a teacher would punish a naughty pupil. And my violin, now seconds from death, was finally allowed a sudden, relieved silence.

I froze in my place.

* * *

“No…”

Alois stood completely still. Even sighing breaths of wind avoided him, stopped curling their long fingers through his hair. All was silent, even the pervading roar of wild fire seemed like white noise, easily forgotten. He scanned the window for signs of life, but came up empty. He strained his ears, searching for something, _anything_ , that would confirm my lasting vitality. A shuffle, a voice, maybe I’d dropped my violin? There must be some reason; the song couldn’t end like that, simply cut out of existence with a pained shriek. But dense tears filled his eyes as the grim feeling of limpid loneliness sank its teeth into him.

_”When the song has sung its last notes, I shall be no more.”_

Hannah, a few paces behind Alois, watched my window, watched as it was slowly consumed in seething hellfire. Hot currents of burned air swept her hair from her wide eyes. Her breath caught in her throat, realizing that yes, this is really happening. And yet, even when witnessing this horrible thing I’ve orchestrated, she and Alois were held fast in a sort of trance-like awe, grimly admiring the beauty of the fire in contrast to the cool night sky. Winds swept away enormous clouds of black smoke, allowing the moon to cast its light upon the willow, separating my chosen few from the burning manor. 

Quick, near-silent, blindly determined footsteps startled Hannah out of her reverie. Her mismatched eyes drifted down, seeing that Alois was a good six meters away from her and running fast. Without much forethought, she took off after him, running quickly—and rather athletically—towards the manor. She called his name through heaving breaths, catching up and tugging him to a stop by his wrist. 

“Let me go!” he resisted, combating her tight, practiced grip on his wrist with quick jerks that may have been able to dislocate his shoulder. With adrenaline-fueled strength, Hannah ripped Alois to her, clamping her arms around his chest and squeezing it to her. 

“Alois stop—” 

“Let me go! I have to save—” 

Panes of clear glass screamed at the heat and the pressure of Hell itself. The tall, Victorian window I had been standing in mere minutes ago, the last window to go, had finally given up. With such a loud, silencing explosion, the last window surrendered to Death, expelling its dismembered parts and squirming pseudopods of flame into the cold night. 

And the single most arduous, most downright tormented, realizing scream pierced the skies and the hearts of the living and shattered into millions of pieces. 

What a deafening, inhuman scream of agony it was. No man had ever experienced such a cry before in history. What denial, what a fruitless attempt to nullify the truth. What renunciation of God himself. What a repudiation of the very events just witnessed. 

Alois had fallen to his knees, the very will to live rapidly evaporating like sweat or morning dew. Endless declarations of insufferable pain rolled up and down his throat, bringing tears to the eyes of the helpless bystanders that could only watch. No one could soften the blow, even if they tried. Because no one can resurrect the dead. 

“Don’t leave me alone! _Please_ don’t!” 

Hannah had begun to sob, profusely and unbridled. Her quaking hands covered her mouth, but were too late to cover her eyes or her ears. She heaved deep breaths that fought against her chest, heavy with grief and physical pain. She collapsed just behind Alois, throwing her arms around him and mourning into the top of his spine. She gritted her teeth, looking through her tearful lashes as she donated the last of her will to clamp her hands down over his eyes. 

“Don’t look, Alois,” she begged, gasping for air, “Don’t look. Don’t torture yourself.” 

“I have to!” 

Violently trembling hands, burdened by such adversity that with the last of their depleted strength, they held tightly to his parched tongue, stretching it out of his mouth as far as it could go—thus creating a different, more guttural weeping. He opened his mouth as wide as he could, straining his jaw and digging his nails into his tongue. 

A moment of stillness, briefly interrupted by a frightened gasp from Hannah. 

With a quick burst of strength and bravery, Alois brought his teeth down hard. Aiming to sever the nerve through his tongue and end his life in a bloody mess. But his teeth came down on bladed palm, biting down viciously on a set of fingers that sacrificed themselves to save his life. 

Hannah sat totally still, expressing no physical pain in regards to the crushing bite to her fingers. Alois’ eyes went wide, filling to the brim with tears that swept over his waterlines like churning waves. She slowly withdrew her hand, watching as he slipped his eyes shut. 

* * *

A tall figure stood silhouetted before a wall of fire. A tall, thin man—so vague in form yet too sharp and definite to be a dream—stood before me, heaving harassed breaths into his chest and growling them out. Hot, bone dry heat evaporated the very breaths he exhaled and the dryness he sucked back into his lungs aberrated his throat, turning his voice to sand. He whispered my name.

Scarring flashes of charred flesh, coughed last words, and smoke-sodden vision passed through my mind like old cinematic film, each frame producing clearer and clearer imagery as they passed. There was even the vague clicking that signaled the pass from frame to frame—or was that the crackle of flames that belched rolling heat into my room, raising sweat over my skin in an instant? 

I turned a ghostly white. All blood, all life force drained from me as I stared at this apparition. I couldn’t breathe, a shocking fear had paralyzed my lungs and legs, holding me still to witness a poltergeist so long awaited I could have never imagined what it would be like to reunite. When it took a strong step forward, I did not react, I would only watch in accepting defeat, waiting to be taken down to hell in the arms of my cut down predecessor. 

“Let’s go.” 

I gasped as the film before my eyes ended abruptly, interrupted by a pair of viciously determined eyes that commanded my wandering mind to return to my body. I blinked my dry eye back to a healthy wetness and saw more clearly my disappointment. The tall figure that eclipsed my doom, alas, was no ghost, but my newly estranged psychologist, Sebastian Michaelis. 

“Must I carry you? Let’s move! We don’t have much time!” He stared down at me, eyes devoid of compromise. I was to go with him at once and without resistance. But it was against my nature to be complacent. 

He stood before me—this formerly tidy, meticulously organized man—a complete and undeniable mess. He baked in the sweltering, skin-itching heat as it rushed into the room, huffing wild yet contained breaths as if he still attempted to masquerade as the kindly doctor, levelheaded even through the worst of it all. Yet the sweat that had long soaked through the crisp white collar he was obligated to don evaporated and filled the air. A certain part of me could _smell_ his strength, wished to evoke its wrath, to see it in action, and bare its consequence. And the other part shuddered, disgusted by the memory of its misdeeds. 

“No.” I defied him bravely. “I’m staying right here.” I crossed my arms in adolescent defiance, dropping my hip, raising my brow and waiting to see what he’d do next. 

He had to squeeze his eyes shut, locking his jaw and calling upon great patience. “Please, listen.” 

_Listen? Listen to what?_

Without emotional display, I listened into the night; groaning beams and pillars that held the manor together, grinding against each other to escape the pain of death, fire that snickered like hyenas running through the halls, laughing at the damage it had inflicted and hand yet to inflict, the wind whispering through the trees outside, and…

Screaming. Gut-wrenching screaming. Such horrible, horrible screaming. 

Oh, lamentable day in the life of Alois Trancy. I could not suppress a sickened shiver as I listened to the pure, unadulterated, primal terror that pervaded the air with such intensity that I feared his very soul would eject from his mouth and fly away like an injured dove. Incoherent babblings of hopeless lament poured from him, a dirge that would’ve complimented my music with profoundly disturbing excellence. Heavy, shuddering sobs seized up his muscles. Canticles of _don’t leave me alone_ s and _I’ll die without you_ s sang to me like tired angels begging for death, for their eternal end to come. 

“Can you hear that? Can you hear the damage you’re doing to someone who loves you?” Sebastian asked, calling my attention from the torrid keening of my friend. Though he still stared at me with such determination, he’d softened, taking on a desperation I’ve only seen once before. With set jaw and worried brows he stared down at me with such hurt intensity it nearly made me forget the nature of our last visit. And though Alois’ pain struck sharply in my chest, I became angry, fearfully angry. And defied him, using his past errors by me to inflict injury on another. 

“He doesn't love me,” I snapped, scoffing and rolling my eyes spitefully. Sebastian, physically taken aback, stepped backward, actually shaking his head in disbelief. “He doesn't know what love is,” I explained, “He tried to rape me. Don’t you remember, doctor? I nearly strangled him.” 

Even the raging fire in the corridor seemed to grow quiet, widening its eyes at my betraying words. Sebastian’s jaw dropped. The mission he’d set himself on upon approaching me this night faded away, uncovering the very human vulnerability neurotypical people seemed to innately possess. With a narrowing of my good eye and the sagging emptiness of the other’s empty socket, I drove the blade of my tongue into him, vengefully reminding him of the straw that broke the back of control that so delicately staved off my psychotic break. 

“ _You_ tried to rape me. Don’t you remember, doctor? So I burned the house down.” 

The silence lived on, thickening with the seconds of pure shock that passed by. I watched in phlegmatic indifference as he flicked his eyes back and forth between my eye and socket. He didn’t breathe, just experienced the sudden realization that this was all his fault. He seemed to leave his body, going over the chain of events that led him to this place. He took a step forward, away from the emblazoned hallway and into the comparative calmness of my bedroom. The self-reflecting look on his face hardened into an acceptance of the truth. And quite suddenly, he sank to his knees, hitting the ground with a muted thud. 

Such an extreme shift in power. Here I stood, a mere child, a snip of a thing, and I had brought a sharp-minded, unimaginably selfless man to his knees. I existed to injure and he to remedy the pains that would be too intolerable to bear without him. How did I win? Why wasn’t I satisfied? 

The fires had started their assault, creeping quietly into the room, singeing the carpets and charring the floorboards below as silent as the grave. They’d blazed orange paths like broken capillaries into a healthy portion of the entrance way, gaining speed and strength quickly. It wasn’t long before curious feelers of flame explored less than a foot away from a kneeling Sebastian. 

Yet there he stayed, content in becoming a stately, statuesque embellishment to the last safe place in the manor. He sat completely still, hardened like a solemn marble carving. Even as little tongues of fire licked at his shoelaces, he sat still, never expressing the slightest discomfort in being given a taste of his inevitable fiery death. 

And the more he steeled himself, the more it bugged me. Thin, crossed arms glazed in a light sweat wrapped tighter around the soft of my belly between my ribs and hips. I too locked my jaw, trying to maintain my uncaring stoicism. But as disappointed as I was in him, having taken matters into his own hands, a sickness in my stomach bubbled furiously the closer the trails of fire came to him. I swallowed thick bile, ground my teeth, watched with internal franticness as orange glowing light threw shadows against the walls. Sebastian breathed easily, keeping his eyes trained on the carpet beneath my feet in quiet penitence. He accepted the hand I so angrily dealt faster than I’d anticipated and stayed quiet enough for my frame to quake with worry, for my vivid imagination to conjure terrifyingly familiar images. 

“Get up,” I commanded, forcing boredom into my voice. But inside, I panicked as I recalled my night terrors, my pasts. And Sebastian’s face was too easy to relate to the visage of my father, cauterized almost completely out of recognition. I remembered too easily how he’d reached for me, spoke to me, how his skin had felt. 

“Sebastian,” I said in a stern voice, the impending doom of fire creeping ever closer. He didn’t answer. “What on earth are you doing?” I cried, suddenly ardent with the need for him to move, to speak and act in authority once again. “Look at me,” my voice faltered, becoming overwrought almost instantly. “Stop this foolishness.” 

"I'm begging for forgiveness,” he answered with the utmost reverence and gravity. He peered around, judging the amount of orange light, “Perhaps for the rest of my life," he pointed out. I expected to grow anxious, perhaps distraught even. But for no reason I can discern, I suddenly became very, very calm. 

"Please forgive me,” he implored under a layer of sound judgment. His eyes rolled up from the floor, trailing over me before honing in on my single eye. The quiet determination had returned to his gaze, but painted a different picture. Sebastian wasn’t determined to fly to safety anymore; he’d accepted his fate. Now he needed to be absolved, to die with a clear mind and clean soul. 

_I stood silent for a moment, breathing dirtied air and observing how the light reacted and bent over his face, sinking his cheeks and jawline even further than they naturally were. And just then, at the precipice of doubt, of disappointment, of regret, I did something totally predictable._

I reached out and satisfied an intensely insistent urge to trace the lines of his face with my fingertips. What a childlike curiosity, yet it relieved an itch at the back of my mind so completely that I indulged with both my hands and managed to dumbfound the victim of my interests. It was the way he looked up at me from the ground. Such innocent, doting worry plastered upon a face that could kill with a single smile, the laborious heave of his chest as he breathed black smoke and ash was so utterly fascinating that I found myself completely enthralled. I traced my thumbs across wicked, angular features, down his nose, over his lips that wanted so badly to speak. They’d been parted, panted slightly at the dense inescapable heat, stealing the last breathable oxygen before we both perished to nothing. I wanted to take it, steal it back. Because it was mine, and I was a spoiled rotten brat, I realized that. 

Without much warning, I quickly enjoyed the satisfaction of bending slightly at the waist before rather stubbornly pressing my lips to his. Of course, Sebastian gasped, he may have even widened his eyes, had found it displeasing, but my objective was not consent, nor was it even to be found enjoyable for myself—though, admittedly…—it was to make a point. 

Whether it be fortunately or unfortunately, Sebastian didn’t seem to mind. The very second we connected, possibly even a moment before, he mauled my waist, squeezing a surprised gasp from my lungs. A fog clouded my mind, blocking out the roar of the fire, the smell of the smoke, the scalding heat. It was almost as if he could taste the tattered, blackened remains of my soul, however useless it may be. I’d gone from instigator to being devoured in a dance of clinging hands and muted vocalizations. With sudden self-reflection, I parted us, severed the bond with a vicious, bruising, reddening smack. 

My eyelashes—bent like the boughs of pine trees heavy with snow—weighed down my lids. They hid my eye, denying the truth it would see should they witness what’s become fact. My fingers pressed their prints into high, sunken cheekbones, hooked themselves over a strong jawline I feared would disappear from my very grasp in a puff of hallucinated smoke. 

“Oh my god,” I sighed or barely whispered, “I’m so fucked up…” 

A hand twice the size of mine found its way under my chin with the mission of encouraging our eyes to meet. With the beat of my exhausted, confused heart increasing rapidly, my eyelids fought to keep closed, aching to shield me from the inevitable realization I had to face. But when the pad of a thumb swept over my cheek, I succumbed and peeked through the lashes of my seeing eye. 

There, before me, a proud man knelt and brushed affection into my skin. Even while doting on a frantic child, he wore the same precocious smile, sending mixed messages that ought not to be introduced to such a young thing, especially not like this. How could this be? How could a being—twice myself in all ways known—bend to _me?_ I, a mere baby, inexperienced in all areas but death and sorrow, standing no chance at all in the world of responsibility and maturity, how did I manage to sway another in such a profound way that he was begging for my forgiveness mere minutes from his slow and painful death? And why was this so _fucking_ familiar? 

“Oh my god, what is _wrong_ with me?” 

All the same. In a world of black and white they are both exactly the same. Mere colour choices and life spans are all that differentiate them. Poor, sad, Phantomhive, even your bones burned to ashes. But your spirit had split in two at the hour of your death. As your very being boiled down to nothing at all, another you lived on, waiting for me to wander so willingly into his midst. He knew what holes to fill. Of course he did. They are one in the same, they have to be. 

Sebastian, you’re the spitting image of my father. And I am unnervingly captivated. 

My eye had finally broken free from the binds of my lid, snapping open to be quickly ensnared by tongues of flame dancing in the reflection of two red eyes looking concernedly up at me. Pathways of flame had crawled through the room, creating patchworks like veins along the carpets and up the draperies. We were surrounded, but he still looked up at me, begging on his knees. His brows drew upward, turning up his face as he studied my shock. I found myself whispering incoherent drabble pertaining to the obvious loss of my mind and clear convolution of my estranged and buried sexual curiosities, staring wide-eyed at this impostor—this doppelganger—that vexed me more than I’d ever been vexed before in a matter of seconds. 

“What can I do, Ciel?” he asked rather innocently, unfazed by the growing threat of fire and smoke. He refrained from asking what was wrong, I observed. It’s possible that even he didn’t know anymore. 

In a burst of upset, broke our contact-- ripped his hand away from my face and scorned it for taking liberties. I turned around, finding facing him to be too unbearable. I listened to him sigh as I passed my hands through my hair, gripping to the roots of it in a sorry attempt to wish it all away. 

"The house is on fire. People are dying all around us.” I turned to face him, locking our eyes in a second of silence before dropping my gaze. “People are dying, Sebastian, _we_ are dying as we speak. But I don’t care. Why don’t I care, Sebastian?” 

His knees flexed, restraining the urge to stand and come to me. Or was it the urge to run to the window? Down below, under the tree, Alois wailed his rout to the heavens. His voice lacerated his vocal chords, curdled his blood—as well as the blood of everyone who overheard. It overwhelmed Sebastian’s driving force to console and protect. But he stayed still, kneeling before me. 

The absolutely _agonized_ screams morphed into pleas for death. I watched the fire slowly consume a window curtain and listened to the pain of my friend, realizing that I had begun to tremble just the smallest bit. On the outside I was hyperventilating, tearing my hair, screaming my own songs of excruciation. But on the inside I was level, and maybe a little pleased. 

And it struck such disturbance in me. 

Sebastian observed as the human half of me battled the indifferent monster inside me. How I wrestled with my inner sociopath, wanting desperately to break down like a normal person but I just couldn’t shake the part of me that simply didn’t care. I wanted to scream, throw a tantrum right there on the floor. But the prideful, steely, unfeeling version of myself stood his ground, turning his nose up at my weakness. Sebastian inhaled sharply, announcing his ever-growing worry as well as his presence as the last bit of connection I had. 

“Just listen,” I whipped around to face him, throwing a gesture out the window like a stone into a pond. Exhaustion had begun to mute the screaming ever so slightly, yet that only made my skin crawl even more, “Alois will scream himself to distraction, and I’m the cause. Any normal person would be bothered, but…” I paused, trailing off to listen to those screams. I scanned the very depths of my soul for signs of real human emotions, any sympathy at all. 

“But I feel nothing. Nothing at all… All I can bloody think about is—” 

I’d curled into myself, hiding my face in my hands. A dark shadow approached me from in front of me, warning me just seconds before Sebastian’s arms pulled me tightly to him. My deeply defeated yet steadily lingering conscience had me throwing my arms around his waist, squeezing so tight I could’ve attempted to crawl inside him and never leave. How I longed to feel safe and warm, not on the edge of death in blistering heat and fury. 

I wept open-endedly, pressed impressions of his shirt buttons into my cheeks and forehead. Oh how I cried, and gasped, and sputtered. How I questioned the events that lead me here. I allowed myself to be that inconsolable child that simply didn’t understand. And Sebastian held me close, absorbed my frantic breaths and pained whines with gentle encouragement to let it all out. Yes, I: Ciel Phantomhive, the hardened, murderous, tyrannical psychopath, had broken down to less than nothing over something as silly and trivial as discovering that even _I_ could experience such a profound, and nearly perverse form of possessive love. I sought to own another person, to keep him like a fine dog and cut down anyone who dared try to take him away from me. 

But did that mean I had to cut down myself? 

I was a murderer. I forced those I cared for to experience such traumatic loss, yet I didn’t cry for them. I felt no remorse for them. I wept for the object of my profane infatuation. I wanted his attentions so badly I let myself fuss and cry for it. I needed it like air in my lungs and beat in my heart yet the only thing that sought to take it away from me was of my very own design. I was quite literally smothering the only thing I’ve come to truly love, and it had gone unnoticed—or actively avoided—for so long that it was now too late to do anything to save him. 

And as I contemplated all of these new thoughts that swelled so quickly my head seemed to throb, Sebastian breathed easily and with graceful composure. Even as I cried my way to exhaustion, he hugged me tight, brushed away my tears and stilled my little jumping sobs with practiced hands. 

_This is wrong, this is so wrong_ played over and over in my mind in an endless loop. _This wasn’t supposed to happen. I wasn’t supposed to feel like this._

It wasn’t right. I wasn’t right. Sebastian needed to live, to find his true place in this world, and I was taking that away from him. I was selfish in keeping him all for myself, for even thinking for a moment that I stood a chance. 

Suddenly his warmth didn’t feel so warm, nor did I feel I belonged in his arms. And I did attempt to leave his embrace, staggering backward and towards my side of the room. But I stepped heavily into a burning patch of rug and shrieked at the sudden hot pain. With an almost paternal instinct, Sebastian pulled me to him once more to keep me out of flame’s way. Yet I still struggled to separate my unworthy self from him, squirming this way and that fruitlessly. 

“Get away!” I cried, landing an unthreatening shove to his chest. But with wild speed, his hands shot out and caught my wrists as well as my shocked and undivided attention. His eyes locked onto mine, staring into me with a cocktail of understanding and polite disobedience. But what he said next is what stuck most. 

“Is that an order?” he asked, low and level. An order? This caught me so off guard that I stopped my wriggling to stare in confusion. 

“What?” I gaped rather dumbly, “Sebastian—” 

“Then I won't,” he replied seriously, all that determination he’d had upon arrival had returned now that he saw an opening, a weakness inside me. I tugged back on my captive wrists in a more cautious attempt to storm away. 

“Sebastian, let go—” 

“Please listen to me.” He watched me, voice firm and authoritative. I stilled and quieted. “I want you to come away with me,” he requested, “there’s still time." 

“No,” I answered quickly, almost afraid that I would give in and let him. Though the doorway to the corridor was burned to nothing more than charred framework curtained in oranges and yellows, I somehow found our escape still plausible. It was still an option, but I couldn’t take it. I couldn’t surrender to cowardice. 

“Let me save you, Ciel,” he pressed his words with conviction, squeezing small, frail wrists in his hands as if he could will my stubbornness away with sheer force. 

“I _have_ to do this! Don’t you understand!?” 

“No, I don’t understand! Why are you doing this?” 

“Because I cannot live!” Our voices built up upon one another until I was the one to start shouting. Sebastian had been stunned silent by the seriousness of my confession. His frustrations dulled and faded away into such saddened confusion. He even bent lower to see me more clearly, as if our height difference could obstruct his ability to see and hear me. It was clear that he’d never assumed that I was the type to be suicidal, both personally and professionally. It was clear that he was more than a little bit hurt. 

“I am weak and foolish. I am all the things I told myself I’d never be,” I began, lowering my voice from a shout just a bit. “My fucked up brain put you in the position where you had to do those things to me.” And here is where I began to lose my composure once more. As I spoke on, my voice grew heavier and heavier in my throat, “I would’ve killed you, you know that? But as soon as I was given the chance I was finally seeing your face with my own eyes and I was… I was so happy. Then I got so scared I couldn’t breathe.” 

Oddly enough, the first spring of tears sprung from my right eye. Most of them dipped down and into the empty socket of where my right eye should’ve rightfully been, but some ran down my cheek. Sebastian stayed quiet as I paused to stabilize my voice, never once thinking to interrupt me. 

“You know what I did when Alois left?” I asked, involuntarily running the back of my hand across the right side of my face to collect loose tears and wipe them away. Sebastian shook his head, assuring me that he was listening. “I cried my eyes out. I couldn’t stop thinking about you _hurting me_! I couldn’t stop feeling your h-hands, and— all the—” 

By now, my voice had gone so tremulous and heavy with weepy passion that I’d begun to sob again. When my breathing came in ragged little gasps and my nose began to run, Sebastian dared to clean away the tears that weight down my seeing eye with the pad of his thumb. 

“I trusted you,” I said between sniffs and snivels, “And I made you do that. I can't live in a world where you are the villain in my nightmares. I cannot live.” 

He did not breathe. Nor did he speak. Enormous stretches of time, elongated seconds ticked away while he watched me. He seemed so tired, so dejected. And after I’d assumed he’d resigned to becoming a marble sculpture once more, he stood, towered above me and never broke eye contact. And then I was off the ground, lifted by my armpits like I weighed nothing at all. Holding me like a fatigue-calmed toddler, Sebastian carried me over to the left side of the chamber, stepping over rivulets of fire as he went. He came to the bed, pulled away the top sheet with his free hand and put me down. 

All the while I remained silent, letting him lay me down and pull the sheet up to my chin. I watched with wide, wet, confused, and oddly accepting eyes, wondering briefly if he’d had any children. Average twenty-something year old men don’t usually know how to do this. Yet another fatherly moment by Sebastian Michaelis that reminded me so much of my own father and left me feeling rather sick. 

“Don’t leave,” I requested in a timid voice as he stood straight once more over me. I dropped my eyes in a moment of embarrassment, “I’m sure there’s room. I’m rather small…” 

The edges of his gaze turned sad as he smiled at me. He disappeared for a moment, walking out of my vision as I stared ahead at the edges of the fire coming closer and closer, the ceiling black with smoke and char. Only settling weight told me where he’d gone, that he’d positioned himself just behind me. He sat close, watching me, but dared not move any closer, afraid he’d violate my trust yet again. The guilt I felt in confessing this to him, how it had conditioned him to change his behaviour, was indescribable and almost unbearable. 

“Lie down,” I commanded quietly, testing to see if I could somehow forbid him to feel so evil, or at least extinguish his notion of my current and lasting mistrust. I believed it to be obvious that I still trusted and held him dearer than I had ever held someone before in the entirety of my short-lived existence, but I could tell that he would stop himself at any cost from unwittingly hurting me again. 

Still, he complied, resting beside me, stiff as a board. It wasn’t until I pushed myself backward to settle into him and make myself comfortable there when he actually allowed himself relax. It seemed that I was to instigate any remotely intimate happenings between us from now on. However short ‘now on’ may be… 

“Does it hurt?” 

“Does what hurt?” 

“Dying…” 

I spoke in a low grave voice, so tremulous and wrought with fearful uncertainty I almost didn’t recognize it as my own and assumed the walls could speak. Sebastian remained thoughtfully silent, cautiously smoothing out the thin sheet I was hidden beneath, thinking of the best way to relieve my fears yet stay honest. 

“Try to sleep,” he responded, low and grave as I had been in asking such a difficult and dialectical question. Of course I knew a living man could not answer my curiosities regarding the pain of Death or the possible ongoing torments of Hell. But, as I was but a child, I huffed at his request to sleep. 

“You know full well I can't sleep, Dr. Michaelis,” I chewed out, stubbornly enunciating every sharp component I spoke in an attempt to be a spiteful little spoon. But Sebastian merely agreed, nodding his head. I needed not to look at him to know he was smiling just the smallest bit, as if he knew he’d won this final game without even trying. As expected, long fingers spread themselves through my hair, scratching their nails along my scalp. They unstuck the fine flyaway hairs from the nape of my neck, pulling a relaxed sigh from my lips as they knew they would. I pouted to myself, screwing up my face but doing nothing to rid myself of such a soothing gesture. 

“Shall I tell you a story then?” he asked, that foreseen smile playing in his voice. 

“If you must… Mother Goose.” 

Sebastian let out a small, unfiltered laugh, one that showed just how aware he was of how childish and stubborn I could be. He thought for a moment before pulling me closer and hugging me to his chest. He leaned in, pressing feather-light kisses around my ear and across my forehead. 

_“Take this kiss upon the brow_  
And, in parting from you now,  
Thus much let me avow —  
You are not wrong, who deem  
That my days have been a dream.” 

A pleased, almost delighted smile pulled up my lips and cheeks. This poem happened to be a favourite of mine, but how did he know that? 

_“Yet if hope has flown away_  
In a night, or in a day,  
In a vision, or in none,  
Is it therefore the less gone?  
All that we see or seem  
Is but a dream within a dream. 

I sighed a drowsy, content little breath. It was easy to ignore the world ending around me. Because, in a way, this _was_ all just a dream within a dream. 

_“I stand amid the roar_  
Of a surf-tormented shore,  
And I hold within my hand  
Grains of the golden sand— 

Sebastian grew quiet and his grip on me tightened, drawing my confused attention. But then I remembered the next few words. 

_“How few! yet how they creep_  
Through my fingers to the deep,  
While I weep – while I weep!  
O God! can I not grasp  
Them with a tighter clasp?  
O God! can I not save  
One from the pitiless wave?  
Is all that we see or seem  
But a dream within a dream?” 

For a moment, silence. 

“A dream within a dream. Poe, 1850.” 

A ceiling rafter, clinging to hairlines of support, groaned and surrendered, falling to the floor in a flurry of embers and charcoal with a spine-tingling crack. Flecks of burning wood flew through the air, landing on the nightstand, the bed, and its inhabitants. Breaths of fire pecked at my lashes, singeing the edges of my eyes and nose. I opened my mouth and in moments I had gasped in terrorized surprise. But a hand covered my face and its twin turned me to face away, burying me in Sebastian’s chest. If I’d breathed in in that instant, I would’ve swallowed burning air. I would’ve screamed and fussed and made it worse, dying a painful pitiless death. 

“Shhh, it’s okay,” Sebastian whispered calmly, holding me tightly to his chest. He eyed the growing fire, traced its ever tightening perimeter, challenging it to come closer and see what will happen. As rational as Sebastian may be, I find it effortless to imagine him taking on the demons of fire, taking them down yet remaining classically suave and well mannered. 

“It’s almost over, just relax,” he smoothed out the hair at the top of my head, hoping I’d fall asleep. “Take deep breaths.” I did. I allowed myself to voluntarily drown in thick smoke, yet two breaths of it tightened my airways, made me cough incessantly. He encouraged me quietly, fending off fire with sheer will alone. I’m sure he hoped I’d suffocate and never feel the fire’s teeth tear at my flesh. God, how the hot smoke burned and irritated my throat and sinuses. It made my eyes water and my nose run as I struggled to calm myself enough to breathe deeply and deliberately. I just couldn’t. 

I sensed the flames had crept closer by the way Sebastian’s arms tightened around me. I could hear them breathing maniacally vicious and hungry breaths. By the way he ripped the thin, sweat-soaked sheet from me, I could tell it had served its purpose; it deterred the fires, but it was now time for it to die. Sebastian’s chest rose and expanded with each hesitant breath he took, and they only grew more and more unsure. 

“Are you frightened?” I asked, noticing the need to raise my voice over the sigh of the fire. 

“As afraid as any other man would be of his own death,” was his reply. 

I opened my eyes, presented first with his chest, then with that powerful orange glow. The headboard was ablaze, the nightstand would be ashes in a matter of seconds, the sheet had ceased to exist, and now the clutches of flame were beginning their journey through the mattress. This was it. There was nowhere else to hide or flee to. We were done for. 

“Sebastian,” I requested his final attentions with a clouded mind. He said nothing; only looked down at me with such profound, dominating disappointment in himself I was stunned to silence. And even in this moment of clarity, where there was nothing more I wished for than to give him what he wanted and try desperately to live a lengthy, successful, and happy life, there was simply no time. We were too late. 

“Let’s leave this behind,” I offered, bearing the last of my soul and giving it away, “Together.” 

.. 

_To Be Continued…_

**Author's Note:**

> follow my tumblr? angstgods.tumblr.com


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